


The Four Innocents: On Our Way

by Azalea542



Series: The Four Innocents [3]
Category: The Monkees (TV)
Genre: 1960's, Alternate Universe - Earth, Gen, Male Friendship, friendship better than romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-06-02 16:29:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 27,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19445260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azalea542/pseuds/Azalea542
Summary: The Four Innocents meet a matchmaker, guilt trip, join forces with an all-girl band, visit Texas, and more!





	1. Matchmaker May

**Author's Note:**

> "Matchmaker May" is based on The Monkees episode "Monkee Mother" by Peter Meyerson and Bob Schlitt.

MATCHMAKER MAY

I

I MOVE IN

Hi. Name's May. Mrs. May Hamilton, 53, henna-dyed hair, blue eyes,...widowed. My dear late husband's name was Clayton, and I've yet to find anyone quite like him again. A guy so sweet is a hard find. Actually, these four boys I've just moved in with are the closest I've come. At least, they look like sweet little angels. But these boys are just teenagers‑‑much too young for me. Ah, but if I were about thirty years younger, I might be chasing after them. Then again, it's hard to forget Clayton.

"We haven't gotten a gig in the last couple of months," the boy named Matt explains to me. "We barely made rent payments with money the Marshalls give Danny for working at their stables. So, we thought we'd take on a boarder to help pay our rent." Of course! What are boarders for? I answered the ad these Four Introverts, or whatever they're called, put in the classifieds. It seems all they want, though, is someone who will chip in his‑‑or her‑‑money, stay in her room, and mind her own business. But don't get me wrong. They're very nice boys, actually. But it seems they just moved in together from out of their parents' homes, and just finished school, so they're still basking in their new‑found independence, and don't want to suddenly be told what to do again. I understand that, I suppose, though they still seem too young to be out on their own‑‑sixteen, seventeen‑‑they're just children! I wonder if there's a law against that in this state. I don't suppose they even thought to think about that.

They give me a first floor bedroom by the front door, and I'm

allowed free reign in the kitchen, the den, and the bathroom. But I'm not to go in the music storage room, Patrick's studio, or their upstairs bedroom without prior permission! They've made that very clear, politely, but firmly.

I want to get better acquainted with my four young roommates, so I cook supper for them.

The following dinner is filled with banal incidents, that when you're trying to get used to a stranger or strangers, seem

magnified ten times in their tense significance. The boys, coming to the table, realize that there are only four chairs. I offer to sit on the couch, but Patrick brings down a chair from his studio. He sits in it, and I take my place on a chair identical to the ones his three bandmates have. Timmy, Danny, and Matt seem somehow troubled by this; I can feel strange vibes in the room. I see no good reason; I guess they just got a hang‑up about the four of them being uniform about everything. 

"So, what do you boys do for a living?" I ask, trying to break the ice.

"We're out of work," Patrick replies, as I glance at their

bandstand.

"Oh, silly me! You're a music group! Only music groups go by names like the Four, eh...don't tell me...Innocents! The Four Innocents, that's it, right? That's what you call yourself."

"Yeah, that's right," Danny says.

"I was calling you every word I could think of that begins with I!" I exclaimed with a laugh. They chuckle politely. "And you're into that new rock'n'roll stuff, right?"

"Um, right," Matt answers me.

"I could tell by your long hair. But now don't get me wrong.

I ain't trying to preach at ya. But tell me one thing‑‑this name, the Four Innocents, it isn't sarcastic or anything, is it? You're not trying to poke fun at good, clean fun?"

The four boys must be very religious. They all desperately insist that their name is sincere. "You see, we picked the name the 'Four Innocents' because..." Matt begins, but hesitates. "Well, rock'n'roll groups call themselves just about anything these days."

"Uh‑huh," I remark suspiciously. "Now tell me what you were gonna say the first time."

He smiles shyly, and they all look sort of embarrassed. "See, we're monks," Matt explains.

"Oh, yeah? Official Catholic monastery monks? Or are you Buddhist monks or something?"

"No, no," Matt says, blushing. "We're our own kind of monks. There are only four of us that I know of."

"Well, why do you consider yourselves to be monks?"

Matt, red‑faced, hesitates once again. Maybe I shouldn't be so pressing. But he goes through with the answer. "We've all,

well, taken commitments to celibacy, I guess you could say."

I scoff. "Celibacy? Four young and handsome boys like you‑‑You could have your pick of the girls!"

"Maybe or maybe not," Danny argues. "But we just don't like

the idea of marriage."

"Maybe you just haven't met the right girl yet," I tell them.

"Or should I say, girls."

I can tell they really want to get off this subject, because

Danny changes it. "So, tell us about your life, Mrs. Hamilton." "Oh, call me May. Well, I originally come from Sacramento. I lived there with my late husband Clayton. Twenty‑seven wonderful years of wedded bliss‑‑It's not so bad, boys."

"Do you have any children?" Danny wonders.

I sigh. "A daughter. Hedda. She moved down here a while ago. I came here so I could get closer to her‑‑in more ways than

one. So, is the food okay?" Everyone has things they find

uncomfortable to talk about.

That night, I think about what the Four Innocents had told me. Celibacy, eh? I really think those boys have made a mistake. And they're still very young‑‑I'm sure it's like I told them‑‑they just haven't met the right girl yet. Anyway, Clayton and I had a

wonderful marriage. I wouldn't want them to miss out on an

experience as wonderful as that.

There must be girls out there somewhere for them. Back in

high school, I used to be quite the matchmaker. Of course, being a yearbook staff writer helped. I set up football heroes with

cheerleaders, A students with other A students, D students with

other D students, little misfit Mary Wolf with the bookish brain Alexander Spengler‑‑now that was a great match. Two social

outcasts who finally met a person who understood them. They're

still happy today, and I'm very pleased when I think that I got

them together. If I did such a good job at matchmaking in high

school‑‑and three out of every four of my matches were successful, at least in dating, then I'm sure I can match up these four

handsome boys with four pretty young girls. Well, at least three of them.

MY MATCHMAKING DAYS AREN’T OVER

I meet the boys' landlord, Mr. Garvey. He seems to be a nice, middle-aged man, although he has a slight aura of gruffness. Well, nobody's perfect. He says he doesn't mind the boys taking me on. He's just concerned with getting the rent money. "It's nice to have a woman like you in the neighborhood, though," he tells me. I suppose he means a woman his age.

"Well, a pleasure meeting ya," I say as he leaves.

Actually, I'm glad, because I have to get down to business. I've got to find out more about these boys, so I can match them up in this computer dating service brain of mine.

I look around to see what each of them are doing. I haven't seen Timmy yet; I guess he likes to sleep in. Patrick doesn't seem like a morning person, either, he's over at the kitchen table, nursing his English muffins and orange juice. Matt went to the store to pick up some groceries. Danny's back out on the beach already, lying in the sand, taking in the rays of the late morning and early afternoon. I go over and take a seat across from Patrick.

"So, Patrick," I begin, then leave it hanging, not knowing

where to begin.

"Mmmm?" he replies, his mouth full.

"A beautiful morning, isn't it?"

"Hmmm‑mmm," he answers positively.

"Where'd you live before you lived here?"

"With my mother."

"What did she do for a living?"

"She's a nun."

"A nun?" What kind of answer is that? Nuns giving birth to monks, I suppose it makes sense.

I guess his answer was honest in some way, though, for he

shrugs and smiles sheepishly. "It's a long story."

"I bet."

"But when I was growing up, she worked as a maid."

"Oh!" That made a lot more sense. "Tell me, did you always want to be a musician growing up?"

"Yeah, I've been playing different instruments as long as I can remember. But I also paint and draw." He points to pictures hanging out in the den‑‑a sad basset hound, frolicking puppies, a cat carrying a kitten. "Those are mine."

I go over to look at each painting individually. "Oh, these are just darling! They're precious!"

He blushes from his seat at the table. "Thanks."

"Do you have more in that studio of yours?"

Picking up on my hint, he replies, "Oh, yeah, lots more.

There's some hanging up in the other rooms, too. But I'd rather not show you those in the studio right now. See, some aren't

finished, and I don't like anyone to see a piece before it's

through. It doesn't look like it's supposed to."

"Oh, that's all right, honey. But, I tell you something, my walls are rather bare‑‑do you think you could lend me one of your paintings or drawings to brighten up the place?"

"Sure. I'll put back the drawing we had hanging in there, but took down just in case. It's a cocker spaniel." Finishing his breakfast, he goes upstairs to get it.

Let's see, what have I learned about Patrick that

I can use in my hunt? Well, he's an artist and musician, and he likes animals‑‑at least, cute and cuddly ones. Reminds me of

Clayton. Clayton adored puppies. Why, when Goldy gave birth to a litter, Clayton would spend hours just watching them nurse, sleep, and play. It says something about a person when they love animals

like that, especially baby ones. It means they got a basically

sweet disposition.

Later, I catch Matt alone while he is dusting the cabinets in the den. But I flub and call him Pat.

"Matt," he corrects patiently.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I got Matt mixed up with Pat as in Patrick." "Oh, that's okay. But it's not so confusing. Patrick rarely

goes by Pat; it's always the whole name Patrick. But with Danny, it's always Danny, not Daniel, and Timmy, not Timothy or even Tim. But me, I get called Matthew as well as just Matt."

"Patrick, Danny, Timmy, Matt," I recite.

"Right. I like the name Daniel, though. It's a cool‑sounding name. But it just seems odd to call Danny that. And Timmy, well most boys named Timothy his age would have switched to just Tim. More grown‑up, you know. But not our Timmy. He doesn't want to lose the child in him, so he keeps on being called Timmy."

"Oh, how sweet," I say. Well, I know a little bit more about

Timmy now, but I'm not getting any ideas about what kind of girl is right for Matt. He seems more hung‑up on his friends. "You have an interesting accent," I remark. "Where are you from?"

"New Mexico."

"Oh, right, I should've guessed the southwest somewhere. Where in New Mexico? Santa Fe, Albuquerque...?"

"Ah, a little town you probably never heard of."

"Small towner, eh?"

"Small town on Route 66.”

I haven't gotten the chance to talk to Timmy yet, and no

wonder, he still hasn't come down from the bedroom. Late to bed, late to rise.

Finally, yawning, and in his pajamas, he troops down the

stairs. "What do you want for breakfast?" I ask.

"It's 11:20," he points out. "It's too late for breakfast;

I'll just have lunch in a half‑hour." He picks up the daily paper Matt left on the table, and buries his face in the entertainment section.

"Talk to me," I say, as if speaking to an uncommunicative

spouse.

He looks up. "Huh?"

"Talk to me."

"About what?"

"Well, let's see..." I pretend I just thought of the subject I bring up. "What kinda girls do you like? Like any you met in school?" 

"It's not usually in my practice to date. At least, not

willingly."

"But you must like to window shop. Everyone does."

"Well, yeah. But then in window shopping it could be any kind of girl; you don't have to know anything about her. Danny's the only one of us who dates."

"He's the British one, right?"

"Right."

Maybe it will end up being one out of four I get matched up.

After getting a few groceries, I go to a checkout aisle where a cute, pony‑tailed cashier named Bonnie helps me. "Good afternoon, ma'am. And how are you today?" 

"Oh, fine. It's a lovely day. And how are you, Miss?" I use that word purposefully to see if she'll correct it. I also search her fingers for rings and see none.

"Oh, Ah'm jes' fine," she replies, and I notice that her

accent is similar to Matt's.

"Is that a Texan twang I detect?" I ask.

She smiles and looks embarrassed. "Oh, no, ma'am. I get that from a lot of people, though. I'm originally from Tennessee."

"Nashville? Memphis?"

"No. Small town of Brown Creek."

"Really? That's funny. See, there's this young man in my

boarding house who does comes from the Southwest, and even though you come from Tennessee, you do have something in common. You both come from small towns."

"Oh, really?"

"He's a nice, handsome boy. Very handsome, in fact. Trouble is, he doesn't believe in marriage."

"Ohh!" she cries sympathetically. "That's too bad. Why, I just think marriage is the best thing in the world two people can do. Why, I can't wait to get married! I'll wear a beautiful, lacy gown..." She trails off dreamily. I smile at her wistfulness.

"I just think Matt hasn't found the right girl yet. I bet if he met a sweet and pretty girl like you, he'd change his mind right away."

She blushes for a moment as she rings up my last purchases and totals the cost. Then she looks up and smiles. "Well, bring by this boy next time you're shopping."

"Will do," I say. "You'll love him."

Danny really is a nice boy, and my most likely success story, so I better get to work finding him a nice girl. But where? Then I recall passing by a British tea room on the way to the supermarket. A pretty British girl Danny's age might be attracted to the place. I go there, but I do not see many young people. Finally, a girl in her late teens walks in, accompanying her mother. The girl is tall and slender, with long blond hair. "Come along, Dory, don't look so glum," her mother chides, speaking in a thick London accent. The older lady then goes to chat with the proprietor, leaving Dory standing around, bored‑‑the perfect time to approach her.

"Been living in America long?" I ask.

"Two weeks," she mutters, staring at the floor.

"Don't you like it?"

"I don't know anyone."

"Not even any boys your age?"

"I don't like American boys."

"Oh, too bad. But that's okay. I know a nice English boy

around your age, and I'm sure he'd like to meet a pretty young girl from his homeland. His name's Danny."

"Is he here?" she asks, but she still doesn't look up.

Actually, she sounds as if she doesn't care one way or the other. "No, but I can give you his number." I take out a note pad

and a pen.

"No. Give him mine," she says. "I don't think it’s proper for a girl to ask a boy out. Is he handsome?"

"He's a cute..little boy."

"All right." She dictates her name and number to me. Then her mother is through picking up a supply of British specialties, and Dory and she leave without another word.

Late that afternoon, I tell Matt I have forgotten to buy some of the groceries I meant to, but that I'm too tired to drive. Could he take me? Good boy that he is, he says, "Sure. No problem."

The one problem is that when we get to the supermarket, he

says, "I'll just wait in the van if you don't mind."

"Well, actually, Matt, I might need your help‑‑carrying the

bags, you know."

"Oh, okay." He and I get out of the van, and a few people in

the parking lot look at me curiously, no doubt wondering what a

conservative‑looking, middle‑aged woman like me was doing in a

hippie van like that.

We enter the store, and I scan the registers to make sure

Bonnie is still working. She is at register seven, like she was before. This is my lucky day.

I play the shopping game, picking up stuff I don't really

need, so I can convince Matt. We then head for the line at

register seven.

Matt counts the groceries in my cart. "Don't you think we

ought to wait in the express lane? The line's shorter."

"I made a new friend at this register this morning," I

explain. "A nice girl named Bonnie. From a small town in

Tennessee. She's very pretty."

"Oh," says Matt. Not just any "oh", though, the kind of "oh" that says, "She's trying to get me into something I don't want to get into." Sorry, honey. It's my job as matchmaker.

We finally get our turn. Bonnie's eyes light up in

recognition. "Oh, hi!"

"I had to pick up a few more things," I tell her.

"You must be Matt," Bonnie continues, her eyes still bright. Matt looks surprised. "Oh, well, yeah," he stutters. Nervous stuttering is a good sign when it comes to boy meets girl.

Everything's going fine so far.

"I'm Bonnie," she says. She nods at me. "She told me about

you." Oh, for goodness' sake, I never gave her my name.

"Oh, she did, did she?"

"Hmmm‑mmm," Bonnie replies, as she gets busy ringing up my

purchases. Things start to stall out. Sparks aren't flying.

Bonnie totals my purchases and I pay. "'Bye, now," she tells

"Pleasure meeting you, Miss," Matt says, but it sounds trite. I don't know what I expected‑‑for him to ask her out? And I would

have become too manipulative even by my standards if I had told

them to arrange a date, like it or not.

In the parking lot, Matt confronts me with a bemused question. "What was that all about?"

"Beats me," I reply with a shrug, and the matter is not

brought up again.

That next day, I can tell my relatives have arrived by the clamor of kids' voices outside. Timmy opens the door, and two young children, Colin, nine, and Allie, five, burst in immediately. The older kids, Ian, thirteen, and Mandy, seventeen, stand with their parents at the door. "Hi," Timmy greets weakly, apparently having forgotten about their visit. 

I walk towards the door. "It's okay, Timmy. This is my

sister, June, and her husband, John."

"Oh, yeah," Timmy remembers. "Well, come on in." As the four remaining Jacksons pass by him and into the den, I notice Timmy look at Mandy. She has the same black hair that my sister

still has some of, and a freckled complexion. She is a cute young thing, and she smiles back quickly at Timmy. She's the only

Jackson child who is dark haired‑‑Colin, Allie, and Ian all have blond hair, like their father.

Matt and Patrick come out from the music storage room, and

Danny comes in a moment later from out back. I pass out

introductions rapidly.

Colin and Allie have rushed over to the bandstand to play with Timmy's drums, making quite a ruckus. "Children, stop that!" June barks, but they seem oblivious to her.

"No, it's okay," Timmy says, and goes over to give them a free lesson. Ian wanders over curiously, but Mandy stays by her

parents.

"Looks like he's good with kids," I say to her.

"Yeah," she says simply.

"Well, um, Patrick and I are gonna finish tuning up the

instruments," Matt tells me.

"All right," I say. They leave, but Danny remains.

John notices his beach attire. "Say, where've you been, boy?"

"The beach out back," he replies.

"Oh, yeah! May mentioned that. We really must go play on the beach for awhile, June. The kids will love it."

"Certainly, Johnny. But not now. Let's talk first."

"I'll fix up some coffee. Danny, you can go back now to

whatever you were doing before. It really doesn't matter."

"Okay, May. Nice meeting you folks." He exits out the back

door.

"Mandy, why don't you go catch up on that drum lesson Timmy's

giving your brothers and sister?" I suggest.

"No, that's all right. I think I'll just sit here." She

plunks herself down on the psychiatrist couch, but as I begin

talking to June and John, I notice her watch Timmy from a distance.

Later, June and John gather their children together and take them out on the beach. I again notice Timmy watching Mandy as she follows her family through the back door. "She's pretty, isn't

she?" I ask, before heading out myself.

"Yeah," Timmy agrees, but not enthusiastically.

"Her name's short for Amanda," I remark just to say something.

"Oh?"

"Why don't you come out back with us and talk to her?"

He is uneasy with this idea. "Nah," he says shyly. "I

think I'll just stay here and get in some more practice."

"That reminds me‑‑I haven't heard you boys play yet."

"Well, we didn't want to disturb you, you see, you might not like some of our stuff. I mean, it is rock'n'roll, and it gets

pretty noisy."

"Oh, never mind me. I don't want you to have to throw

together rehearsals as soon as I go out, and suddenly stop when I'm coming in. If I'm boarding here, I'll just have to get used to it."

"All right, May. I'll mention it to the fellas."

Out on the beach, June is talking to me while soaking up rays, the three younger kids are frolicking at the very edge of the sea, and John is chatting away with Danny about what life is like on the coast, while Danny keeps a sharp eye on how far the kids wade in. He says the currents aren't good here, and he doesn't let the youngsters get more than their ankles wet.

Mandy is just sitting on a blanket, staring at her siblings.

"You know, Timmy's still practicing his drums," I tell her.

"Yeah, I can hear him."

"You should go talk to him. He can give you a private lesson without your brothers and sister hanging around."

She just shrugs. I decide I better not push it and become too obvious in my motives, so I turn back to talking to June. I try including Mandy in the conversation, and eventually, she warms up. As the day continues, however, she never goes to talk with Timmy, or he with her. They just look at each other.

The Jacksons leave in the early evening. Then, at about half past six, Danny announces to me and his friends that he's leaving to pick up Dory. When I gave him her number the other day, he agreed to call her. "Might as well," is how he said it.

"Have a nice time, dear," I tell him.

"When will you be back?" Matt asks.

Danny shrugs. "About ten, I should say."

He returns at eight. "Back so soon?" I ask.

He shakes his shoulders nonchalantly. "Yeah. We ran out of

things to do."

"Did something go wrong?"

"No, no," he insists. "We just wrapped things up early,

that's all."

"Well, did you like her?"

"Oh, she's okay. A bit boring, though."

"Will you see her again?"

"I don't think so. I usually don't date a girl more than

once."

"Oh," I say, disappointed.

He sits down next to Timmy, who is watching TV. "At least I didn't miss _Star Pioneers_ ," he remarks, as the science fiction program begins.

That night, as I lay in bed, I think about my attempts at

matchmaking. First round attempts‑‑Matt and Bonnie, Timmy and Mandy, Danny and Dory‑‑all failures before they even got off the ground. Well, there's still Patrick.

OVER MY HEDDA

I figure tonight I might as well visit Hedda. It's not that I don't want to see her, I mean, that's why I moved out here, isn't it? It's just that I'm a little bit nervous. Well, a lot nervous, actually. In fact, I'm too nervous to even phone, so I'm just going over there. I did tell her I'd be moving out this week, so it won't be completely unexpected. I tell the boys I'm going to see my daughter.

"How will you get there?" Matt asks. "Your car's still in the shop."

"Well, I guess I'll just walk."

"Is it that far?" Danny wonders.

"Well, I don't know, actually."

"Why don't you let me take you?"

"Well‑‑" It will be a chance to get to talk to him. "Okay, thanks."

I had written the directions down on a map, and I dictate them to Danny until he says he has a good idea where to go. I wonder how he sees over the wheel. I don't remark upon this to him, however, instead I tell him, "It's been a long time since I've seen Hedda. I wonder what kind of neighborhood she lives in."

"It's an apartment complex, I think," Danny says. "Didn't she give her room number?"

"No," I have to answer. "It must have slipped her mind."

"Yeah," he agrees optimistically.

We talk for awhile, but before I can ask him how he came to live in America, we arrive at Hedda's apartment complex.

We enter a lobby with a stairway and mail slots. Danny and I check the names and numbers on the latter and find one that reads "Hamilton, H., #216."

"You want me to come up with you, or is there a certain time I should pick you up?" Danny asks.

"Oh, come on up, at least for the first few minutes."

We go to apartment #216, and I rap on the door. No answer. I knock more loudly. "Who is it?" I hear my daughter yell, her

voice sounding like it's coming from a room twice removed.

"It's your mother!"

She sounds startled. "Mother! What are you doing here?"

"I told you I was coming!"

"Yeah, but I didn't expect it to be tonight!" I hear her

scurry about. "Just a minute."

Finally, she opens the door. She has a robe thrown on, and

her blond hair is tossed and sweaty. "I was in the bath," she

explains. "Ah, come on in." Her blue eyes are hiding something.

"Well, if it isn't any trouble."

"Uh, no t‑trouble. At least not for a few minutes anyway.

Actually, I did have other plans for the evening, but you can come in for a little bit." She sights Danny as we enter. "Who's this?"

"Oh, this is Danny," I say.

"Danny Selwyn," he introduces himself, extending his hand.

"Danny's one of the four boys who live at the house I'm

boarding at," I explain. "He drove me here tonight."

"Well, have a seat on the couch," she says. Danny and I sit

down on the drab green couch against the wall of her small living room. A kitchenette, a small table, and a clock is the only other furniture filling the place, and strings of beads divide the rest of the apartment from this section. A few posters of the Consorts, the Tomcats, and other such groups line the walls.

"Well, where do you live now, Mother?" Hedda asks. "Maybe I can visit you sometime."

I write down the address and directions to the Four Innocents' house. I give her a little detail about the boys as well, with Danny clarifying anything he thinks necessary.

"Well, can I see the rest of your little home?" I ask my

daughter. "Or is it‑‑?"

"Oh, no, no!" she blurts nervously. "It's a mess I'd rather

you not see. If I had known you were coming over, I would've

cleaned up, but I just didn't have time. Some other time, maybe." "Sure, honey," I say. "So, tell me, what have you been doing

with your life?"

"Well, I've been dating guys and stuff, you know."

"Found any really special ones yet?"

"Well, not the special one, but lots of great guys."

"That's wonderful, dear. I'm sure you'll find the right one soon. Or maybe he's already right under your nose." There's

something that's right under my nose I hadn't thought about before. "Maybe it'll be one of you Four Innocents," I say, turning to Danny.

"Oh, no. No," he insists, and I remember how determined he

and his friends are not to get married.

"Maybe Patrick," I continue, regardless. "He reminds me a bit of your father, Hedda."

"Oh no, not Patrick," Danny argues.

"Well, I don't know," Hedda says, looking at Danny, and

obviously thinking he doesn't look too square. "I might like to meet all of these boys."

"Well, come on over anytime, dear," I say. After a moment's uneasy silence, I ask, "What else have you been doing?"

She seems hesitant. "Well, I've been working as a waitress at the Groove Club."

"Hey, that's on Sundown Street," Danny points out, and Hedda turns red. I take it that's not the most reputable street for

wholesomeness. In fact, now I remember hearing about it before. It's the place where today's vocal youth keep coming into conflict with the police.

"Yes, that's where it is," Hedda admits, and glances at the clock. "Well, it's been nice talking to you, mother, but I really must get to my prior plans."

"Okay, dear," I say. Tense vibes are in the room, and I do not think she wants me to hug or kiss her, so I let her show Danny and I out the door.

"Sundown Street, eh?" I remark on the ride home.

"Wild place," Danny says.

"I think she was hiding a guy in her bedroom," I mention

suddenly.

"Me, too," Danny admits. "But I didn't want to make any

accusations against anyone's little girl."

"We only got to stay a few minutes."

"She can't keep him waiting."

"Well, I'm not going to assume for sure until I know for sure. She's innocent until proven guilty. But I really think she's gotten into that 'don't trust anyone over thirty' youth bit. Tell me, Danny, I know you have long hair, but what do you really think of the counter‑culture ideals? I mean, honestly?"

"Well, I like the music and the clothes and hair styles, all right, and there's nothing wrong with peace, but some of the other stuff I don't dig. And I think a lot of people over thirty are all right. This generation, we're all still just kids, you know? We've got some cool new ideas, but we're probably gonna change our thoughts on some things as we grow older."

"Like about marriage?"

"If you're talking about my generation as a whole, I hope they do start marrying instead of carrying on outside marriage. But if you're talking about me, no, I'm pretty set in my ways. I don't want to get married, but I don't fool around either, and neither do any of my bandmates. I don't mind being a virgin all my life. In fact, I prefer it."

"Well, I still think marriage would be good for you boys, but it's good to know you're not practicing fornication."

I am delightfully surprised when Hedda visits that evening. I gather all of the Four Innocents in the den so that she can meet

them. "Danny you know, and this is Matt, and this is Timmy. And this is Patrick‑‑he's the one I said reminded me of your father." I overhear Patrick remark aside to his friends, "I don't see

how I could remind anyone of anyone's father." I wonder what he means by this, and then realize he said it because he has no

intention of ever becoming one.

"Patrick painted these paintings you see in the den," I tell Hedda.

"Oh how..nice," she remarks with a polite but phony smile. "Would you like a soft drink or anything?" Danny offers,

perhaps wanting to protect Patrick. Fortunately, he seems

oblivious to Hedda's disinterest.

"Oh, that reminds me!" I cry. "I just baked up some fresh

apple pie! You must have some."

"Well, I always did love your apple pie," she chirps, this

time sounding honest.

My daughter, the boys, and I have some pie, then the

fellas go off to do their own thing. I sit on the armed couch

while Hedda chooses to sit across from me on the edge of the

psychiatrist couch. Even though she is not sprawled out on it,

apparently it has some therapeutic effect on her, as she starts to unburden herself.

"Mother, I want to tell you something‑‑or things‑‑about

myself," she begins hesitantly. "Now that you're actually here, I can't go on living a lie, pretending I'm still your innocent little girl. The truth is, I don't believe in the repressive morals of yesteryear. I'm part of the new generation, and I believe in its ideals."

"Peace, love, and understanding?" I ask hopefully. "Those

things anyone can believe in."

"Well, yes, I believe in that, but there's more to it than

that. Over the past couple of years I've lived out here, I've had many freely romantic relationships, if you get my meaning. And I'm sharing my apartment with my boyfriend Vic."

"That's a lot to unburden in one sitting," I say, trying not to show my disappointment in her as of yet. "You're not into

drugs, are you?"

She nodded. "Only marijuana. We don't go for heroin."

"That's still not good for you," I say, in a controlled, calm

voice, not seeing what the difference between any two drugs are as long as she's taking any. "And neither is fooling around with the birds and the bees."

She goes on the defensive, standing up and heading for the

door. "Oh, I knew you'd react like this! You are so unaware!"

I also stand up but stay in place. "Well, if you knew I would react like this, then why'd you tell me?"

She stands near the door, her arms crossed. "I thought you

had a right to know. And I actually believed there might be a

chance of you having a more open mind than the rest of your kind!" "Come on, you actually expected me to just sit here and say,

'Oh, it's okay, honey? Go and get stoned all you want. Have sex with whoever you want, whenever you want. I don't care.'?"

"No, but I'm part of a new gener---"

"A new generation, yeah yeah. What makes you think your generation was inbred with any more wisdom than any other generation anyway? It's just your numbers, you know. There's so many of you, you can simple outyell everyone else, so then you think you must be right. It's all just one big rationalization." Then the kicker: "Just wait until you have children!"

Hedda has just been scowling at me all this time, but at least she hasn't left yet.

"Listen, dear," I continue more softly. "You don't have to go along with the majority, mainstream opinion. Take the Four

Innocents‑‑they're from your generation, but they're clean boys. They don't take drugs, and they're virgins!"

"They're plastic," Hedda debates.

"The hell they are!" I return. "They're just being who they are, which is quite the opposite of being 'plastic', might I add." "Well, I'm just being who I am, if that's the way you feel

about it."

"I'm all for that, but within the bounds of basic morals, at

least!"

"I don't care what your moral standards are, Mother!" she

yells, pronouncing the last word as if it were a curse. "I'm grown up now, and I'm gonna lead my own life, and I'm gonna do what I want, and you can't stop me!"

"No, I can't stop you," I tell her. "I just hope you don't

overdose, or get some disease."

"I don't need your concern," she lets me know as a parting

shot, and storms out the door.

SEX, DRUGS, AND ROCK’N’ROLL

The boys come back in or come back down eventually. “This Sundown Street?” I begin.

“Yeah?” Danny comes over and sits on the edge of the psychiatric couch, where I am also seated.

“Is it a good place to get drugs?”

“Yeah. You think Hedda shops there?”

“Well, of course she does,” Matt says from the kitchen. “She works there.”

“Could I get some there?” I wonder.

“Why would you want to do that?” Danny demands.

“Well, you know, to be more ‘in’ with Hedda and her crowd.”

“Man, you don’t want to do that,” Matt argues.

“Just the light stuff—marijuana. I’d have to learn how to smoke, of—“

“It’s just going to complicate matters, May,” Timmy offers. It’s not gonna solve any problems—“

“—But it could create new ones,” Patrick finishes. He is sitting on the floor in front of me.

I sigh resignedly. “You’re right. You’re all right.” I pet Patrick’s golden hair. “And you’re very wise.”

“Thank you!” Patrick exclaims, beaming.

Now to try “free love”. 

I met Ernie Wendell when he drove the truck moving my furniture to the Four Innocents’ house. I chance upon him again at the supermarket and slyly ask him out. Women speaking for themselves—it’s another thing Hedda’d be proud of.

And remember, I tell myself as I finish getting ready for the date. Don’t say no if he wants something more. I am standing in front of the mirror, but I can’t look myself in the eye.

_It’s not like you’re a virgin_ , I scold myself. And I doubt Ernie is, too. Plus at my age, I don’t have to worry about pregnancy.

We go out to eat at an Italian restaurant with serenading violinists. It is near St. Francis Park, so afterwards we go for a walk.

“Don’t be so jittery,” Ernie says. “I’m not gonna bite you.”

He is a perfect gentleman throughout the evening. As he drops me off at the beachhouse door, he kisses my hand. I blush. “Thank you, Ernie, I had a wonderful time.”

No guilt, no incriminations. I’m really glad he’s not that kind. Oh, what a fool I would’ve made of myself. Ruining a romantic night with cheap lust.

“Well, step three commences,” I announce to the boys. “I’ve given up the ideas of sex and drugs to impress Hedda. There’s only one thing left to try—and this one you can’t argue with.”

“What’s that?” Patrick wonders.

“Rock’n’roll. I don’t want you guys to hold back anymore when rehearsing. And can you lend me some of your records?”

“Sure,” Timmy agrees, and bounds into their music storage room. He comes back with one of the Consorts’ LPs. “This is our favorite group—besides us, that is.”

“They’re the number one group of all time,” I remark. “I can’t go wrong here.”

Oh, boy. Can’t go wrong? When they put it on the turntable, I instantly get a headache. “This is going to take some getting used to,” I say. Then later, I add, “I can’t get used to this.”

“Wait a minute,” Patrick requests. “One of their ballads is next.”

Timmy makes a move to lift the needle. “Wait!” Patrick insists.

The first few notes play. “Oh, I know this one!” I cry. “I never knew it was the Consorts. I thought it was one of those harmony groups like the Four Tads or the Hi-De-Hos. Yeah, this one’s okay.”

“I’ve a better idea,” Timmy tells us, returning with another album. “This is The Incorporated. They do lots of light numbers, but are still considered a rock’n’roll group.”

We listen to the new album. “That’s not bad,” I remark. “Except in that next to last song when they went into the psychedelic section—“

“—Bridge,” Timmy clarifies.

“Falling elevators, sirens, breaking glass—what was that all about? Ruining a perfectly nice song?”

“That’s my favorite part!” Timmy exclaims, sticking out his lower lip.

I pinch his cheek. “And let it be your favorite part. That’s fine with me. But I can’t get into it.”

LIFE CHANGES

The boys are rehearsing. I must admit, I do not care for some of their louder rock'n'roll numbers, but they play some lighter, prettier songs as well. Saturday they were able to play their first gig in a long time, at a small party at the Somerton Country Club. I'm happy for them.

I think about Hedda throughout the day. I'm afraid to call

or visit her. She might spit in my face for all the respect she has for me. I've tried talking to her a few times since our argument, but our conversations are short and terse. She doesn't want to have to listen to what I have to say, even though I just want to talk to her, not preach. 

A knock sounds at the door, and the band stops playing. "I'll get it," I say.

Hedda is standing at the door, holding the hand of a bearded young man. "Hello, Mom," she says shyly. "This is Vic, the boy I told you about?"

"Yes," I reply hesitantly. "Well, come on in."

Vic extends his hand to me. Although I know he's no innocent, he seems amiable enough. "I just thought you should know Hedda and I are engaged."

"Oh, how wonderful!" I cry.

"It is?" Hedda wonders. "I wasn't sure you'd approve."

"Well, I'd rather see you married than living together."

"I see."

"There was something else we wanted to tell her, didn't we, Hedda?" Vic reminds her.

"Oh, Mother, we decided to invite you to come live with us after we're married. I mean, you shouldn't have to live with strangers instead of family."

"They were only strangers when I first moved in," I say. "But I know what you mean. You don't mind that I'm a part of the older generation?" 

"Well, Vic and I were talking one night, and he reminded me that being part of the younger generation means not only preaching about how we're replacing war with peace, but applying it to one's own life."

"Good one, Vic," I remark. "I think I'm gonna like you."

A week later, back at the Four Innocents' beachhouse, Vic and

the bandmates are moving my possessions back out. "Didn't we just do this?" Matt asks.

Mr. Garvey stops by the front of the house curiously. "Moving so soon, Mrs. Hamilton?" he asks. "You've been here less than a month. Did these boys drive you away?"

"I'm moving in with my daughter and son-in-law," I explain.

"Oh, well, congratulations." He seems disappointed, but then, again, I hardly ever saw him the whole time I was living here.

When we have finished packing everything, I turn to the Four Innocents‑‑I've gotten to know them fairly well the last few weeks: Danny with his charm and generous kindness; Matt and his subtle warmth and affection for his bandmates; Timmy with his delightful humor and his constant soul searching; and Patrick with his wide‑eyed wonder and his sensitivity. Plus his artistic talent: he gave me a painting of his to take along to the new

house. It's the cocker spaniel.

But I was not meant to live with a rock'n'roll quartet all my life, and they were not meant to live with a motherly matchmaker. "Well, my darling boys," I say therefore. "It certainly has been a pleasure."

On to my new life. I just hope this modern couple doesn't try to get me into drugs or any of that stuff. Still, I'm grateful to be able to get closer to my daughter. Sure, I'd like to see her turn her life around, but she's going to have to make that decision herself.

“Goodbye, boys,” I call out again. 


	2. The Prince and the Pauper--Or Not

THE PRINCE AND THE PAUPER—OR NOT

One day, Danny and Patrick were in St. Francis Park when they saw a young man who looked like Danny—right down to his height. Danny accosted the person, and they laughed, and compared notes. “My wife doesn’t mind that I’m so short,” the man said. “It doesn’t look like my kids will end up little.”

When the short man had left, Danny returned to the bench where Patrick sat. “He’s got a wife and kids,” Danny said.

“Not a double in celibacy.”

“Nope.”

“He has your looks but he doesn’t have your life.”

“Nope.”

“Can’t expect him to,” Patrick chided gently.

“Oh, I know. It’s just that…” Danny stopped. “Oh, I dunno.”

“I’m your double in celibacy,” Patrick reminded him.

Danny smiled. “I asked that man if he’d like to trade places for the day. Like in the story. Just for a lark.”

“What’d he say?”

“He said he’s happy right where he is and he doesn’t need to changes place with anyone.”

“What about you?”

“The same goes for me.”


	3. Give Till It Kills

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is based on my own life and my own severe depression and guilt tripping. My "Atlas syndrome" led to my being Baker Acted (locked up for threatening suicide) back in 1992.

GIVE TILL IT KILLS

I

Matt returned home to be faced with a family crisis. It was his job as bandleader to try to straighten things out. "Matt, see what you can do about Timmy," Danny pleaded.

"He's really hung up this time," Patrick added.

"What's up?" Matt wondered.

"Same as always," Danny replied. "Guilt. This time overwhelming."

Matt sighed. "Where is he?"

"In the guest bedroom."

Matt knocked upon the door. "Timmy? Can I come in?"

"Yeah," Timmy muttered.

The Innocents' bandleader entered the guest room. "What's wrong?" 

"What's wrong?" Timmy returned. "Nothing. I have food, shelter, and clothing."

"What's wrong?" Matt asked again.

"Everything," Timmy replied this time. "I have the weight of the whole world on my shoulders. I feel like Atlas."

"Danny and Patrick told me you're on one of your guilt trips again."

"Gee, how could they tell?" Timmy sighed.

"Timmy, you're a good and generous person, and you do your part. That's all you can do. You're not the savior of the world."

"I know, I know."

"Some things are never gonna change, you know, and you're not to blame. And, besides, you've done plenty of good deeds."

Timmy couldn't reply. He just lay his head down upon the bed, and Matt noticed that he was trembling.

He sat down next to him, squeezing his shoulder. "Timmy, you can't be too hard on yourself."

II

It was still dark when Matt got up. Too restless to get back to sleep, he decided to go get the paper.

He walked outside. The air was chilly in a way that made him shiver but at the same time delighted him with its eeriness, kindling his imagination. Maybe a little too much--Matt thought he felt the presence of someone else. 

He stood still, listening. Detecting nothing, he walked towards the van. He was fumbling with the keys when the stranger made herself known. "Matt," she said softly.

His guard down, Matt gasped, whirling around. A woman stood before him, dressed in jeans and a black turtleneck. Her brunette hair was styled conservatively, but still, she seemed menacing. Menacing and familiar, too. "Do I know you?"

"Genie," she said.

"Who?"

"Genie. From the Dragon Lady."

"Oh." Matt nodded. "Didn't you used to be blond? Or was it black haired?"

She just smiled as an answer.

Matt remembered that she was no innocent maiden. Warily, he asked, "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you," she replied in a matter-of-fact manner.

"Why?"

"I like you."

"You **like** me?" He feared what that meant in her vocabulary. "Aren't you pals with that Nuke fella?"

She grimaced. "We were partners only. We were in on some money-making deals together. I loathe him."

"So what do you want with me?"

She reached into the pocket of her jeans, and Matt noticed for the first time she was wearing gloves. She then held out her hand before Matt, and in it was a transparent bag filled with powder. "Genuine drugs," she said. "And there's more where that came from."

"So?"

"So? This could be your chance to make it rich--fast. Nuke was with me originally on this deal, but he's in jail now, and I much prefer you anyway."

"Why me?"

"I told you. I like you."

"Well, there's something you should know about me. I'm honest. And law-abiding."

She shrugged. "Nobody's perfect."

"I don't know where you got the idea that I might be unscrupulous."

"Oh, I know you're righteous. Actually, that's what I like about you. Your purity." She ran her finger along his chest.

"Look, lady," Matt said nervously. "I've got to get going."

"I'm not here to hurt you!" she insisted, and drew away. She pulled a dagger out of her boot, and threw it to the ground. "See, I'm unarmed."

Matt looked down upon the dagger. It had an exquisite, jewelled handle, and looked ancient.

"I got it in Bali," she said, noticing his interest. "The

natives there believe the dagger holds within it the soul of its most courageous owner."

"How'd you get into this scene?" Matt wondered. "I mean, robbing and who knows what else?"

"How'd a nice girl like me...? I used to be good. In fact, I used to be an angel. But it got too hard. I had to give up everything; my conscious kept nagging me. Finally, I just said screw it. If my best isn't good enough, I'm not going to even try to be good anymore. I'm just going to live for me."

"Sounds like my friend Timmy," Matt remarked. "At least the first part. I hope it doesn't go to the second part."

"I hope so, too," she said, for the first time sounding remorseful.

"Look, you better get out of here while you still can," Matt warned. "I happen to know the Double Eye Bee's looking for you."

"All right, Matt, but think about my offer. I'll give you one more chance."

Matt watched her retrieve her dagger and walk away. She headed behind their house and walked down the coast. Then Matt drove to the store, but afterwards, as it was getting light, he stopped by E.G. Bland's house.

III

She returned that night. Timmy noticed her as he was fiddling with his drums. "There's this girl out back. She just keeps sitting there like she wants something."

"Ignore her," Matt advised. "I know who she is."

"Who?"

"You've met her. She saved your life."

Timmy looked back at her. "That's Genie?"

Matt nodded. "I told Bland she was hanging around. Hopefully, he or one of his comrades will catch up to her soon. I'm just going to go up to bed now."

Matt went upstairs, joining Danny, who had already retired. Patrick was in the music storage room, paying attention to the band's excess instruments.

Timmy tried to return to practicing, but felt Genie's stare. He stalled, and finally, after Matt had been gone a few minutes, she disappeared.

That's when the guilt started again, relentless, driving out all peace of mind. Timmy clenched his teeth and drew his hands into tight fists. It was so physical he could feel it knot his stomach and send his mind spinning. He had tried to be good, to obey God; why wasn't this guilt letting him go? And why was it only himself he blamed?

The guilt told him he could never be happy again.

Pretending that he didn't know what he was doing, he walked outside. It was windy, and the sea looked rough that night, as violent as his emotions.

_No harm_ , he told himself. _No harm in going for a little swim._ He took off his shirt and slowly waded in.

He made it far enough so that he could no longer walk, but had to bob and swim. The waves seemed to attack him, spitting salt in his face. Then something seemed to grab him, yanking him down. The undercurrent, he reminded himself. But that was what he had come here for.

Instinctively, he fought it, and also because he felt guilty about committing suicide. He pulled himself to the surface, gasping for air. "Damn guilt," he whispered, though knowing he shouldn't waste his breath. A wave hit him straight in the face, and his open mouth caught a big gulp of water.

Timmy forgot what happened after that, waking on the beach, coughing and gagging. A woman, soaking wet, knelt before him, wiping off her mouth. It was Genie.

"What--?" Timmy began, but didn't have the strength to finish the question.

"That's the second time I've saved your life," she reminded him. "Rest assured I won't do it again."

"Why?" Timmy wondered. "Why bother with me?"

"I didn't do it for you," she insisted. "I did it for Matt. He likes you."

Timmy nodded, though still confused. "Well, I like him."

She was silent for a moment, wondering if she should add what she wanted to really say. "I was once like you," she said finally. "Guilt ridden, trying too hard to be good. Remember, everything in balance. The line between good and evil is very thin."

She stood up, and without another word, walked away. Timmy lay back on the beach, trying to regain strength. Finally, he returned inside.

IV

"How you feeling this morning?" Matt asked when Timmy came down the stairs. He hadn't told any of his bandmates about his near drowning.

"Okay, I guess," Timmy said. Reaching the kitchen table, he sat down next to Matt.

"I just want you to know that I think your wanting to be good and help others is great," his bandleader told him. "And I hope you never stop being good and helping out. Just don't drive yourself insane with it. You won't be able to help anybody if you kill yourself."

Timmy sat up straight. "How did you--?"

Matt stared at him. "How did I what?"

With his mouth hanging open, Timmy shook his head, and started to get up.

"Timmy!" Matt chided. "You didn't try something like that, did you?"

Leaning back down in his seat, Timmy nodded. "Almost worked, too, almost. But Genie was still around. She saved me again. She said she wouldn't do it one more time."

"Timmy, Timmy, Timmy," Matt said with a sigh. "I wish I could just reach into you and pull out all your guilt and destroy it."

"You did something similar once, when you helped me overcome my depression."

"Maybe I can do it again?" Matt wondered. "Maybe me, and Danny and Patrick?"

"Maybe," Timmy said, covering his face with his hands.

"We're going to get through this," Matt told him firmly. "We're gonna get you over all your emotional torments whether you like it or not."

Timmy looked up and smiled. "Thanks."

"Hey, you're smiling," Matt observed. "Now that's what I like to see. Spread some more of that around and you'll make the world a better place."

Danny was lying on his stomach, reading a magazine, when Matt entered the Four Innocents’ bedroom. The bandleader sighed as he sat down on his bed.

“What’s up, mate?” Danny wondered.

“Oh, it’s Timmy.”

“Yeah?”

“He’s so difficult.” Matt had decided not to mention the suicide incident to Danny or to Patrick.

“He’ll get through this, Matt. Just like he has all the other dilemmas.”

“I just wish I could..well, get inside his head! Get in there and straighten everything out.”

“I’m sure it’s messy up there,” Danny commented as Matt stood up. “Up there in Timmy’s brain.”

“Yeah, I think he just goes round and round in circles.” Matt pulled back the sheet and lay down in bed. He heard Danny retire a while later, but he did not hear it when Patrick and Timmy came in.

And it was only when they were all in bed that he began to dream¼

_Matt walked down a hallway. The pale, beige walls were unadorned. Flowers were strewn all across the floor. There was silence. Enveloping him. He couldn’t even hear his feet strike the floor. It was worse than having his ears stuffed up with cotton._

_At last, the hallway ended. He stepped into a bedroom. It, too, was bare of decoration. Timmy lay on a bed with a railing, his neck resting on the railing. Timmy did not move or acknowledge Matt’s presence._

_Matt stepped up to him; peered down into his face. “Timmy, man, what are you doing?”_

_“I must pay for the sin of having my own life while billions suffer.”_

_“Timmy, no. Danny, Patrick, and I have lives—do you think we must be punished?”_

_“No.”_

_“See?”_

_“But I must be.”_

_Matt sighed. “How?”_

_Timmy didn’t answer. He just stared at the ceiling—vacantly, like a dead man._

_Matt tried to pull him off the bed, but Timmy would not be moved. It was as if some invisible force were holding him in place. Matt knew what that force was. “C’mon, Timmy, it’s just your own false guilt. You know it.”_

_Two large disembodied arms appeared by the bed. They held a huge ax._

_“Timmy! Move! Now! There’s no time!”_

_The ax swung down on the railing where Timmy’s neck lay. In one fell swoop it cleft the boy’s body in two. Blood ran from the neck and from Timmy’s head, which had crashed to the floor. The phantom arms and ax vanished._

_“Timmy, no, you don’t deserve this!” Matt cried, some strange instinct causing him to pick up Timmy’s head, using his curly masses of hair as a handle. Matt put Timmy’s head and body back together. A glow emanating from his hands sealed the corpse back up, and Timmy blinked. “Timmy, man, what do you think you’re doing?”_

_Timmy tentatively felt his neck and moved his head in different directions to test its security. “I have to be punished.”_

_“For the needs of the world,” Matt broke in tiredly. “Jesus already did that, you know. You’re not exactly on the same level as Him.”_

_“But what about the hunger and the poverty and the sickness and stuff?”_

_“Killing yourself or making yourself destitute is not gonna make them go away. Man, Danny, Patrick, and I need you.”_

_Timmy suddenly clutched him. “Help me, Matt, help me,” he whispered desperately._

_“I’m trying to--”_

_“Make it go away. Make the guilt go away.”_

_Matt shrugged helplessly. “I want to do that for you; I really do.” How to tell him, how to tell him without getting sucked into the same spiral of guilt..Matt didn’t want to tell him to not help people. But the way Timmy was beating himself over this was cruel to see. “Look, make it a habit to help some group, some organization that fights one of the world’s ills. We can’t give a lot right now—we’re suffering from poverty ourselves. But we’ll make sure to tithe on whatever money we get. And the church does good things with that money to ease the world’s pains. And when we get even more money, we’ll give more than ten percent. When we’re rich and famous, we can give to all sorts of groups. Puppy shelters and human shelters_ _¼_ _”_

_Timmy pulled away from Matt’s shoulder, his face wet with tears. “Really?” he asked hopefully._

_Matt winked. “Really. And in the mean time, when we have no money, each of us will try to live by the Golden Rule. It may not be giving, but by doing no harm to others we’re at least not adding to the world’s ills.”_

_A bright light invaded the room they were in. “Hmmm, sun’s coming up,” Matt observed. “I gotta go. I’m starting to wake up.”_

_“Okay, I’ll see you later in real life,” Timmy returned._

Timmy stumbled out of bed. He saw Patrick lying asleep. Sitting on the edge of his friend’s bed, he shook Patrick’s shoulder. “Hurnnh?” Patrick asked groggily, then sat up. “What is it, Timmy?” Timmy stared at him mutely, his eyes glistening. “What? What’s the matter?” In reply, Timmy clutched Patrick near. Patrick returned the embrace. “Aw, Timmy, it’ll be okay. Whatever it is.”

After a moment, Patrick stood up. “Well, I’m going downstairs. You coming?”

Timmy simply nodded.

They chanced upon Danny on the staircase. Timmy had enveloped the British boy in a hug before Danny even had a chance to say good morning. Like Patrick, Danny knew it was best to just return the embrace. “It’s okay, mate.” When Timmy continued downstairs, Danny glanced at Patrick for answers. Patrick just shrugged, then followed Danny back upstairs to talk.

Matt was sitting at the breakfast table. Timmy approached his backside and hugged him from behind. “Timmy, hello,” Matt greeted, reaching back with his hand to pet his drummer.

Timmy sat down, and finally spoke. “You were in my dream last night.”

“That’s cool.”

“No, I mean you were really there, weren’t you?”

“That depends,” Matt answered warily. “Did you dream of being executed?”

Timmy nodded. “I got my head chopped off. But you put me back together.”

Matt’s face had gone white. “Then we did share the same dream,” he said softly. “I did get inside your head.”

“Uh huh.”

“I hope I helped straighten things out for you. You know, Danny, Patrick, and I¼” Matt stumbled over the words.

Timmy bent his head near Matt’s. “I know, I know.”

“How do you feel now?”

Timmy shrugged. “Okay.”

“Is the guilt gone for good?” Matt tried to ascertain.

“I don’t know. It’s just gone for now.”

Matt looked worried. 

“Matt, I almost died,” Timmy continued. “By my own hand, so to speak, in the ocean. And then I did die in my dream. Right now, I feel like I’m recovering. That the only way to go is up.”

Matt smiled.

“See, you’re smiling!” Timmy pointed out, reminiscent of the way Matt had commented on his smile the other night.

Danny and Patrick bounded down the stairs. “Is everything okay?” the former asked.

“Yeah, it’s all right,” Timmy said. The other two joined him and Matt at the breakfast table, so they could plan what mischief to be up to that day.


	4. Mixed Blessing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story was inspired by The Monkees episode "Some Like It Lukewarm" by Joel Kane and Stanley Z. Cherry.

MIXED BLESSING

I

It had been awhile since May Hamilton had played matchmaker. But of late she had made the acquaintance of a local disc jockey who himself was acquainted with many local bands. One of these groups fired up her scheming imagination. It was a communal rock'n'roll quartet of lovely girls. They called themselves the Rosaries, and they were like the Four Innocents in many uncanny ways. It seemed like destiny. May hadn't been able to resist.

After getting a promising phone call from Beatnik Bob, the Four Innocents went down to the KNEW radio station to find out the rest of the details. "I'd like for you to perform at an informal concert in the park that the station is putting on. But you won't be the only band performing."

"That's cool," Matt said. "I didn't think we were that big anyway, I mean, to be the only one in the lineup."

"Are we the opening act?" Timmy wondered.

"Not exactly. Actually, like what we want you to do is to perform with another band, temporarily join forces."

The Four Innocents stared at the disc jockey, puzzlement on their faces.

"You see, like they're a girl band. We wanted to have one big mixed group. And it's only temporary. So what do you say?" 

"Well..." Matt it thought over. "We do need the money for the rent coming up. But let's meet this other band first."

The Rosaries walked into Beatnik Bob's office. They were four pretty girls‑‑two blondes, one of them a strawberry; a brunette; and a raven haired, ivory skinned girl.

"Hey, you guys the other band?" asked the pure blonde, whose hair curled up at the end.

"Yeah," Danny replied. "We're the Four Innocents."

"Oh, how interesting," drawled the brunette, who carried a guitar case. "We're the Rosaries."

"And we know how to rock and roll as hard as any guys," the pure blonde said. "By the way, my name's Cadence, well, not my real name, but that's what you can call me. I'm the drummer. The strawberry girl here is Lark, our bass player; this is Aria, our lead; and this is Raven, our, er--."

"Tambourine and maracas player," Raven explained.

"Hey!" Danny exclaimed. "That's what I am."

"Really?" Raven asked with curiosity.

"Oh, I guess we better introduce ourselves, then," Matt

observed. "I'm Matt, lead guitar; this is Danny, he told you what he plays. Patrick, our bass; and Timmy, our drummer."

Official greetings and handshakes were passed around.

"How interesting," Raven remarked. "You have the same

instrument arrangement as we do."

"Yeah, that's pretty groovy," Danny agreed.

"So how long you guys been together?" Aria asked.

"Oh, a little over half a year," Matt replied.

"Seems like we've known each other for eternity, though," Danny remarked.

"Half a year?" Aria repeated. "That's 'bout how long we've been together."

"How come we ain't seen you girls at any contest before?" Matt wondered.

"Oh, we just moved here from a town in northern California," Aria explained. "We figured there's more opportunities here for a band to get a break."

"Well, we're hoping that, too," Matt said. "But we're still waiting. It takes time, though, I guess."

"Yeah, we're pretty happy with life as it is," Danny told the girls.

"But, like, someday we're gonna be the big band on 'Beatnik Bob's Beat Bonanza'," Timmy said, imitating the disc jockey's voice. "And it will be like, wow, crazee baby."

The four girls giggled. "You know," Raven remarked. "Our

drummer talks in a lot of those funny voices, too."

"Oh, really?" Timmy asked, looking at Cadence expectantly.

"Can you do any?"

She blushed and shuffled her feet. "Well, not when I'm put on the spot."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Timmy said apologetically. "But I know what you mean."

"Thanks for letting me off." She turned to Raven. "You know, you keep on noticing all these things our bands have in common."

"But it's true! Can't you see it?"

"Oh, I see it all right‑‑" Cadence began.

Aria took over. "But if you really want to see how alike our bands are, why don't you ask their tambourine player what he's like?"

"Yeah, see if he's a lot like you," Cadence finished.

"Well, they can't be too much alike," Lark observed. "He's got a British accent."

"Yeah, but my grandmother was from England," Raven pointed

out.

"Oh, really?" Danny asked, eagerly waiting for the questions

of comparison to begin.

"He's the shortest of the group, like I am," Raven noticed.

"Did you have to bring that up?" Danny asked. "You're still taller than me."

"Do you like to date a lot?" Aria questioned.

"Yeah, Raven's always dating a different guy each week," Lark explained.

"Well, I don't date a different guy each week," Danny replied. "But the fellas do say it seems like I date a different girl each week."

"Yeah, he does," Matt muttered. "Well, to be fair, every couple of weeks."

"Yeah, that's more accurate," Timmy concurred.

"Hey, you know, that is strange," Danny began, standing upon Bob's desk. "That you and I‑‑and our bands‑‑should have so much in common."

"Maybe we should go out together," Raven suggested.

"Yeah, we could go out together," Danny agreed.

"As I see it, it's our destiny."

"Yeah, we could go out together," Danny repeated. "And forget about each other by next week. Just like us!"

"Well, it will give me a chance to show you just how much our bands are alike," Raven said. "Maybe your three bandmates could date my three bandmates."

As Danny's friends held their hands up in a gesture of protest and shook their heads, Aria exclaimed, "Really, Raven! Lark and I never date guys, you know that."

"Well, maybe Cadence and their drummer--"

Cadence broke in. "I'm sure he's nice and all, but I hardly know him, and I don't just jump into things like you do."

"I knew they were all going to react like that," Danny

remarked. "Just like them."

"What do you mean, 'hardly know him'?" Raven demanded.

"He seems no different than you. Anyway, that's what dates are for in the first place‑‑to get to know somebody."

"Well, we'll wait," Cadence suggested. "I'm still not that much of a believer in coincidences."

"Yeah, wait," Timmy chimed in.

Danny arranged for a date with Raven later that night, and the Four Innocents went home for the day. "Their band is just like ours," Danny observed. "Except they're girls."

"Probably just on the surface," Matt said. "I mean, the

things they have in common."

"Actually, come to think of it, Raven's not the kind of girl I'd typically ask out, except that she's my kind of girl."

"Huh?" Timmy wondered. "What the hell is that supposed to mean? They're nice girls, though."

"Yeah, they're pretty," Danny said. 

"No, I meant nice, as in pleasant personality."

"Oh, you don't think they're pretty?"

"Oh, yeah, they're nice looking, too...You know, you don't see many girl bands around," Timmy observed. "Girl vocal groups, yes, but actual bands..."

"Yeah, that seems to be true," Matt shrugged.

"Best looking band I've ever seen," Danny said.

"Hey, what about us?" Patrick pouted.

"But you're guys!" Danny defended. "You're the most lovable band I've ever seen, but, best-looking? You'll have to ask those girls what they think. Maybe I can ask them when I go over their house to pick Raven up."

"They all live together?" Patrick asked.

"Yeah, Patrick," Timmy replied. "Raven mentioned it when she and Danny made arrangements for their date."

"Oh. My mind was elsewhere. But there's another thing they have in common with us."

"Oh, sheesh!" Matt cried in exasperation. "I bet you there's one thing that they don't have in common with us."

"What's that?" Timmy asked. "We don't have hourglass

figures?"

"No‑‑Well, yes, that, too. But I meant to say celibacy."

"I don't know, Matt," Danny remarked. "That one Texan-sounding girl said she and Lark never date guys, remember?"

II

The Rosaries' house was in a nicer development than the Four

Innocents' beachhouse. Both Raven and Cadence had their own separate bedrooms, although Aria and Lark shared the master bedroom. Their house would look like just another suburban family's residence were it not for the rock and roll posters and teen idol pin‑ups hung up in every room.

When Raven answered the door, her bandmates watching on, she expected Danny but found all four of the Four Innocents. "Hi, Rave," Danny greeted. He nodded a greeting to the other Rosaries. "The guys wanted to talk about the act with your bandmates."

Raven looked miffed at everyone showing up. "Come on in, guys." 

"Well, as long as you fellas are all here, why don't you sit down and have some cola and chips?" Aria suggested. 

The Four Innocents agreed and soon the eight musicians were

chatting away about the current music scene, instrumental

technique, and other little things they had in common.

While the young people were busy chatting away, Raven tapped Danny on the shoulder. "Come on, let's go."

"Where are we going?"

"Out, of course. On our date."

"All right. Let me say goodbye to‑‑"

"No. Let's sneak out before they try to stop us." Danny just looked at her. "Oh, they'll figure out where we've gone."

"Oh, okay." He got up with her and left.

A moment later, Matt held out a silencing hand, halting

a story that Timmy was telling. "Did you just hear a door‑‑Where's Danny and Raven?"

"Oh, I just saw them leave," Lark said. "I guess they've gone on their date."

"So where do you want to go?" Danny asked. "That's affordable, that is. I mean, I don't want to sound cheap, but I am. Well, what I mean, is, you know, we're tight on cash."

"I see. Well, there's a cute little nostalgia restaurant down past the intersection of Drysdale and Tara."

"What's it called?"

"Valerie's. They have the cutest little theme booths there, and the grooviest decorations, and a variety of foods."

"Oh, really? Sounds like an interesting, eccentric little

place."

"Oh, yes. It's very romantic."

"Oh," Danny replied uneasily. "So, Rave, you like the

communal life? Just you and your friends?"

"Oh, don't call me Rave, Danny‑‑"

"Oh, sorry, Raven."

"No, I mean, don't call me Raven, please. I mean, I know

everyone calls me that, but it's just a nickname. My real name is Denise. Denise Bartram."

"Denise, huh? Okay, Denise it is."

"It has a groovy alliteration to it, doesn't it?"

"What does? Denise Bartram?"

"No. Your name and mine. Denise and Danny."

"Oh, yeah, whatever. I had no idea what you were talking

about. So, as I was saying, do you like the commune life?"

"Oh, it's okay, I guess."

"Okay?" Danny asked incredulously, this being an answer that showed contradiction rather than comparison. "Just okay?"

"Yeah, it's fun sometimes. But I don't want to live this way forever, you know."

"You don't say?"

"I mean, sometimes my bandmates really get on my nerves."

"You're kidding."

"Well, don't your bandmates ever get on your nerves?"

"Well, there's little things sometimes, but they don't get on my nerves on any noteworthy level. Not recently, anyway. And,

personally, I would like to live this way forever."

"You would? Just you and three guys? A permanent bachelor

apartment?"

"Well, beachhouse, actually, yeah. It's very pleasant."

"What's the matter? Don't you dig girls?"

"Oh, yeah, I love girls. I just don't want to marry any

particular one."

"Don't you ever want children?"

"Nah. Too much responsibility. Besides, I don't dig the way you have to make them."

Denise frowned. "Well, it appears you and I don't have as much in common as I thought."

"No, I guess we have our differences as well as our

likenesses," Danny replied. "Matt was right. He warned me we were all just individuals. But don't worry about that. We can still have a good time."

"We'd like one of the cute little booths, please," Denise told the waiter.

The waiter led them to a circular table that was almost entirely enclosed. Denise and Danny squeezed in. The waiter gave them their menus and left.

"So why'd you want a hideaway booth?" Danny asked. 

"I like being alone," Denise replied simply.

"Oh, in that case, I better leave."

"No, I meant, alone with my date. You know who you remind me of?"

"You, I thought."

"No, right now you've been acting like Cadence. You're always joking around, never taking anything seriously enough."

"Well, what's so serious about dinner? Besides that if you don't eat it, you starve?"

"Oh, well, I didn't mean situations that were direly serious. I just meant to say, there's more to life than just joking around. There's love and...other stuff like that, you know."

Danny raised his hands in a calming gesture. "Don't worry, I know. And I make sure that those I love know I love them."

"Who do you love?" Denise asked suspiciously.

"Why, my bandmates, of course." As she raised her eyebrows, he shook a chiding finger at her. "Oh, naughty girl. You never tell your bandmates you love them."

"Well, I don't. I mean, I don't hate them either; I simply like them." She sighed as she resumed scanning the menu. "You

mean, four practically grown men such as yourselves are saying 'I love you' to each other? Weird."

"Since when were you peeking in on us?" Danny demanded.

"Well, I've made up my mind," Denise stated, closing the menu. 

"That we're strange?"

"No, about what to order."

"Give me another second, will ya?"

"The four of you," Denise began. "You're not, er, you know, lovers, are you?"

"No. Why would I be out with you then?"

"Well, you could be bisexual."

"No. I'm not even sexual!"

"You're not using me as a disguise, are you? So people won't get suspicious?"

"No!" Danny insisted. "I just feel very close to my friends emotionally, that's all." Closing the menu, he changed the

subject. "I'm ready to order, too. I just hope the waiter can see us from way back here."

"I know I just said it's weird that you guys are telling each other you love each other, but if you're homosexual, you can tell me," Denise insisted. "I don't suppose you realize this, but Aria and Lark are lovers."

"They are?"

"Yeah. So, like, I can adjust to it, I suppose. Well, at least, I'm not gonna beat you up or anything, although I might be a bit jealous."

"Me and the fellas are very, very, very close," Danny told her. "Closer than most lovers, maybe all the lovers in the world, who knows, be they boy-girl, boy-boy, or girl-girl. But the reason for it, I think, is because we're lovers of each other's souls, not each other's bodies."

"But sex is the ultimate expression of love."

"Yeah, right, if that we're true, there'd be no such thing as one night stands and crimes of passion."

"It's against your religion, isn't it?" Denise asked knowingly.

"What is?"

She didn't answer directly. "I bet if you were of some different faith, you and your beloved bandmates would've hit the sack with each other by now." She smirked back a giggle. "Four pretty boys living all together..."

"When the fellas and I 'window shop', as we like to say, we look at girls, so I don't **think** so." He shrugged. "We are passionate about each other, but I really don't know."

"Well, sometimes when friends become lovers, things go downhill," Denise remarked. 

The waiter returned to the table. "Ah, pardon me if there was a hold up, but I couldn't see you hiding back here. Are you ready to order?"

"Yes," Denise replied, the epitome of the elegant and refined

diner. "I'd like the veal parmesan and a glass of wine."

"What?" Danny demanded.

"I hope it is not a problem, mademoiselle, but I will need to ask for your identification."

"Go on and get some soda," Danny advised. "I can't afford

wine!"

Denise pouted, but then consented. "All right, I'll have the ginger ale."

"Very well, mademoiselle. And you, monsieur?"

"Oh, I'd like the cheeseburger with everything but the

anchovies, and make it medium rare--the juicier the better. Plus I'll have French fries and a cola."

After the waiter had left, Denise looked at Danny. "A

cheeseburger? In a nice place like this? Couldn't you have waited to go to the Burger Haven?"

"It's on the menu; it's all right to order it. Besides, none of the fast food joints serves burgers with this many toppings, or cooked to order." 

Denise explained herself. "Oh, well, I just thought that in

a nice restaurant like this, with all the international choices, you might like something a little more exotic, foreign."

"Hey, hamburgers are foreign food to me. I'm from England, you know."

"I thought British people we're a little more refined than you're being tonight."

"Not me. I'm a wild one. But that makes me wonder, maybe I

could get a job here. Earn some extra money for the band. Naah. I'd go blind in a place as dark as this."

"It's supposed to be that way. It's supposed to be romantic." 

"It just seems a little dark to me."

Denise sighed, growing impatient. "Your friends said you date a lot. I would think that you've already taken a girl to a place like this."

"Well, to bistro type places before. But never any that

didn't pay their electric bill. Or maybe it's just this booth he brought us to‑‑it's cut off from the light." He peeked out from behind the partition. "Yeah, see that couple over there, the one the blonde waitress is waiting on, they look like they've got a little bit more light. Maybe we should've gone out there." "Forget it," Denise sighed. "You know, I thought you would be a little more well‑mannered than this."

Danny's eyes widened. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "I just find it hard to be serious, especially, well, on a date. I get

zany for some reason." He was really going overboard tonight, though, and he knew it was because, counterpart or not, Denise wasn't the type of date he usually took out. He liked them sweet, innocent, and young-at-heart. He could tell that Denise had some hot, passionate blood boiling under her air of pseudo-maturity.

"I guess I am expecting too much romance from someone I just met," she admitted. "I'm behaving like we're already engaged. I guess it's just that I got the impression earlier on that we had everything in common. But now, I see we're the two most different people in the world."

"Well, I think that's exaggerating it a bit, but I know how it is to want someone who understands you. When I met my bandmates, it was like magic, the four of us finding each other. We're so grateful for it we've sworn ourselves to inseparability."

"The four of you are kindred spirits?" Denise asked.

"That's right‑‑And it's a wonderful experience, believe me." "It's just so strange, my bandmates and I are so different.

I guess you and your friends are more alike than our two bands are alike."

"Yeah," Danny agreed. "We couldn't live without each other.

You know, there was a time when I was so wild I thought I was a

loner. I would be inseparable to no one. But when my friends came along, that all changed. But not against my own will. I just found myself giving in."

"Interesting," Denise remarked. "I guess I was being silly, but at first it seemed so uncanny that we were finding out all

these things we had in common." She laughed uncomfortably. "I

even imagined that you just might be my destiny. All the signs seemed so right."

"I'm sorry, Denise, it isn't me. You see, my bandmates and I are so close that not even a girl can separate us." He touched her cheek gently. "Not even a nice and beautiful girl."

Denise blushed. "Oh, you lie. I haven't been very nice this evening. But I promise I'll make it all up to you later."

"Oh, there's no need to do that. Let's just enjoy our meal as we originally intended to. You can even have some of my chips‑‑I mean, French fries."

"They'll go great with the veal parmesan," Denise agreed.

Later that night, Danny and Denise returned to the Rosaries'

house. Inside, they found the television broadcasting the news. Either sitting on the couch or on a chair, or reclining on the

floor, the dates' six collective bandmates had all dozed off. "Oh, this is charming, this is," Danny remarked as he stepped in. "Maybe we **should** have gone to a fast food place," Denise said. "I guess we were out too long." Heading towards her bedroom, she continued, "Well, let's not disturb them."

She stopped in the hallway, noticing to her dismay that Danny seemed oblivious to her. He shook his bandleader's shoulder

instead. "C'mon, Matt, wake up. We've got to get home."

III

The next morning, the eight met again, this time over at the Innocents' beachhouse. "Beatnik Bob wants us to think of a name," Aria stated. "Let's see, you're the Four Innocents and we're the Rosaries..."

Curious Timmy asked, "How'd you girls pick your name anyway?"

"Randomly, out of a dictionary," Cadence replied. "How'd you pick your name?"

"We picked it 'cause it was appropriate."

"They really are innocent," Denise told her bandmates. "Practically monks."

"Told her, did ya?" Matt questioned Danny.

"Had to," Danny answered.

"You're monks?" Lark asked. "Where's your monastery?"

"Oh, not those kind of monks," Timmy explained. "We're our own self‑appointed monks."

"Oh," Lark uttered, although she still did not understand.

"So, we really should decide now which songs to play," Matt

said. "Maybe there's standards or hits both our bands know, and that'll make it easier."

"Yeah, but if it's a love song, who's point of view are we

gonna sing it from?" Patrick wondered. "A boy's point of view or a girl's?"

"We'll do a duet," Cadence decided. "If it comes to that."

On Monday, rehearsal was held over at the Rosaries' house. The eight busily discussed the arrangement of parts on the 1965 hit "You're for Me". "Why'd they have to pick that one?" Danny muttered to Matt.

"Well, because we both know how to play it."

"Yeah, but this song is so..appropriate that it's not

appropriate."

"Oh, you mean the counterpart thing again?"

"Yeah. Everyone might start forgetting what we don't have in common."

"You play bass," Patrick suggested to Lark. "I'll play

keyboards."

"Oh, but I wanted to play the keyboard!"

"Oh, you do? I didn't know you played them. Okay, fine with me."

Things were not so easy concerning who would be the drummer. "If I'm playing drums, what are you playing?" Cadence demanded of Timmy.

" **You're** playing drums?" he returned. "Matt! Matt, is she

playing drums?"

"Oh, Cadence, let the big baby play drums if he wants to,"

Aria replied instead.

"I was merely asking," Timmy pouted.

"Hey, don't you talk about my bandmates that way," Matt

ordered Aria. "We're supposed to be cooperating here, not

arguing."

"I was cooperating!" Aria insisted.

"This certainly isn't the way we usually work together," Danny remarked aside to Denise.

"It's not? Lucky you! This is nothing so far! It's this way all the time over here."

"What a bummer."

"Yeah. You know, you really are fortunate to have a band like yours, monks or not."

"Yeah, I know it."

"I'm beginning to get an idea why you're so contented to stay the way you are."

"Hey, if you've got something good, why give it up?"

"I see what you mean, Danny, I see what you mean..But this is

not the lifestyle for me."

"It's not the lifestyle for some people," Danny admitted.

"It's not the lifestyle for most people," Denise corrected.

Innocents' Prayers had finally gotten down to business, deciding that since this was only a temporary situation, no one needed to dominate creative control. They would strive for quality, but not perfection, since the two bands couldn't agree on the definition of the word anyway.

As the Four Innocents filed out that night, Denise bounced on her feet nervously. She wanted to mention something to Matt, Timmy, and Patrick without Danny hearing, but Danny purposefully waited for his bandmates to leave first. "See ya, girls," he said as he stood in the doorway. Denise stood nearby, peering out after the disappearing trio. Danny reached over and kissed her on the cheek. "Hey, take it easy, Denise, okay?"

She blushed and smiled. "Okay, Danny." With that, he left. "I see you got him to call you Denise," Aria remarked.

"Yeah, that's what all her fave boyfriends call her," Cadence reminded. "I'm surprised he's calling you 'Denise' so fast,

though."

"He's special," Denise told them.

"I would think you'd prefer for guys to call you Raven," Aria said. "It's more mysterious, more romantic."

"I don't know; it's not personal enough. It's just a

nickname." She yawned. "I'm tired from all that hassle over

arrangement and rehearsing. I'm going to hit the sack."

She went into her bedroom and lay down, thinking of Danny.

Such a charming and cute boy, she didn't even notice that he wasn't tall, dark, and handsome. He had a good sense of humor, too. Denise needed that, although she did not always show appreciation for it. He did some things which got on her nerves, but she would fix that. And despite the differences between them that had been so obvious on their date, she could not get the uncanny similarities out of her head. 

Forget what he had told her, she would have him. Soon, when he would say, "Nothing will ever part us," he would be talking about the two of them, and not his bandmates. After all, if his bandmates had managed to make him change, maybe she could, too. If he was too contented to give up his current communal life, maybe she could make him discontent.

IV

Early next morning, Matt heard a knock at the front door. He

opened it to find a distraught Denise. "Raven, what's wrong?"

Denise sniffled, then blurted out, "Oh, Matt, I know it's not

rehearsal time yet, but I absolutely must speak to you alone!

Danny's not around, is he?"

"No, he and the fellas are still asleep. Why, what's the

matter?"

"Come outside for a minute. I want to make sure he doesn't

overhear this."

Matt wondered what could possibly be up. "Okay, um, sure."

Denise led him beside her car. As she leaned against the

vehicle, she began to explain. "Please don't tell Danny I told you this, but..Well, you know, he and I were out for a long time on our date--"

"Yeah. He told me you went to Valerie's."

"Yeah, we did, but we went someplace after that, too."

"Where's that?"

"Oh, well, it's not actually a place, per‑‑" She sobbed in broken sentences. "It's, you know‑‑What I'm trying to say is‑‑Danny and I‑‑We‑‑"

Matt clutched her shoulders. "Take it easy, girl! Finish one sentence at a time. Please."

Denise turned her head, covering her face with her hands. "I actually think you'd rather not have me tell you."

Matt sighed. "C'mon, let's have it. What are you saying

about Danny?"

"He‑‑He..pressured me into going all the way!"

Matt grabbed Denise by her arms and pinned her up against her car. "Don't be telling me no tall tales, girl, you understand? Danny and I are intimate friends and I happen to know for a fact that he wouldn't do such a thing."

Denise was forced to take a different approach. "Okay. So I did lie. I seduced him."

"You're still lying," Matt told her. "He'd never give in to a girl, either."

Denise cried aloud and Matt released her. "Well, maybe that's his ideal‑‑I‑It was mine, too..until the other night. W‑We just kinda slipped up, you know? I admit, I made the first move, b‑but we were all alone in my car, down by..by the lake‑‑"

Matt shook his head in pity. "Raven, Raven, nah ah ah.

That's not the way it went. Let me correct you on where you messed up in this fanciful tale of yours. For one thing, Danny never parks with girls, allowing himself to be tempted like that. He just treats them to a simple dinner, like he treated you. Now he told me about everything that happened the other night, and his story rings truer than your improvised one here. Now, I think you better leave before I go and lose my temper again. I don't

like having to be like that."

Denise, wailing, threw herself at his feet. "Have‑Haven't you any sympathy for a girl who could be in trouble?"

"Yeah, you could be in trouble all right, if you don't leave." 

"I‑I could be pregnant!"

"Yeah, I suppose a girl like you could be. But certainly not by Danny. He told you he was an Innocent, remember? If you're going to lie, at least try to be realistic."

Denise saw that all her pleading was not going to convince

Matt that Danny had done anything wrong. In a huff, she rose and got into her car.

Timmy and Patrick tramped downstairs, awakened by the noise of squealing tires. Timmy glanced out the front window in time to see Matt turning away. "Huh, I wonder what that was all about."

"I don't know, I just got up," Danny said, standing in the

kitchen and listening to the radio.

Matt stormed in and slammed the door. "Hey, Matt, what was

that all about?" Timmy asked.

Matt grunted, leaning up against the door. "It's your friend

Raven, Danny."

"Denise was here?" Danny wondered.

"Tell me she was lying, Danny."

"She was lying. Why, what did she say?"

"Never mind, you don't have to tell me she was lying. I know she was."

"Raven's a liar?" Patrick asked incredulously.

"Yeah, she seemed so nice," Timmy added.

"C'mon, Matt, what did she say?" Danny demanded.

"Oh, she said that you and her made it in the back of a car the other night."

"What? That's ridiculous!" Danny cried. "Now what would

'cause her to say a thing like that?"

"Well, I'll tell you one thing," Matt announced. "It

certainly marks the end of Innocents' Prayer."

Danny was lost in thought. "I thought we were doin' all

right, you know. I thought we had gotten over our differences." While Matt went to the phone and began dialing, Patrick

suggested to Danny, "Maybe it's not the differences; maybe it's the similarities."

"Huh?" Timmy asked.

"Patrick, you're brilliant!" Danny exclaimed.

"Gee, thanks, Danny."

"I guess I'm not," Timmy said.

"Yeah, Aria?" Matt greeted abruptly on the phone. "We're

through, the deal is off."

"Huh? What's that? Our combo arrangement is‑‑?"

Matt interrupted her. "You can speak to Miss Raven if you

have any questions about it." He hung up.

"You know," Danny surmised. "She does seem kinda like a

lonely, sad sorta girl."

"So, I guess there goes the big gig," Timmy moped.

"It's not fair!" Patrick pouted.

"Yeah, that one girl has to ruin it for the other seven of

us," Matt agreed. "Maybe I shouldn't have been so snappish with Aria."

"Well, when you think of it that way," Danny said. "Maybe we shouldn't let it ruin it for the seven of us."

"What are you saying, Danny?" Matt wondered hesitantly.

"Well, if the rest of you fellas are in agreement, what I'm about to suggest is we still try to play the concert together. We have nothing personal against Aria, Cadence, or Lark, so when we're over there, let's try to remember that. I want to talk to Denise anyway and see what's really on her mind‑‑besides free love, that is."

"You're strange," Matt stated.

"She wants you, you know," Timmy warned. "She's filled with‑‑Oh, how do the romance novels say it? Burning desire."

"Don't worry, fellas," Danny reassured. "You can trust me

with her."

"It's not **you** we don't trust with **her** , Danny," Matt told him. "It's her alone with you."

"Well, actually, she did behave herself when I took her out. You see, I don't actually think what she wants right now is to go all the way. At least, that's not the first thing on her mind.

She has something else that's troubling her. I'm just curious to find out what it is."

When Denise arrived home, her three bandmates were waiting for her, their arms folded across their chests. "What?" Denise grunted in reply to their unvoiced question.

"Look, what is all this about?" Aria finally asked aloud.

"First, Matt calls me up, real angry, and says forget about the

octet. He says to ask you if I have any questions. Then, not long after, he calls back up again, sounding like he's just calmed down, and says the deal's back on and not to worry about it. But I have to worry about it, I'm all confused now."

"Oh," Denise muttered. She was silent for a moment. Then, she said, "Look, do what he says, and don't worry about it. This is between them and me. It'd be better if you didn't get

involved."

"This isn't about Danny, is it?" Aria demanded. "You haven't been getting too possessive over him, have you?"

"Yeah," Cadence chimed in. "That's how you drove all of your other boyfriends away. Within a week's time."

"I told you it's none of your business!" Denise cried, breaking down into tears. She ran to her room.

"She's so moody," Aria complained. "I don't know how I put up with her sometimes."

V

The Four Innocents trooped over to the Rosaries' house that

afternoon. While Danny's bandmates, greeting Denise's bandmates, acted as if nothing had happened, Danny drew Denise aside on the couch. He glanced at Matt, who managed to maneuver Timmy, Patrick, and Raven's bandmates into the kitchen.

After they had left the room, Danny turned back to Denise. "Look, I just want to know why you said what you said about me."

Denise bit her lip. "I'm sorry."

"All right, I think. But why'd you say it?"

"Be‑because." She grew silent, and Danny waited for her to

continue. "I knew‑‑I knew how you‑‑you'd never leave the band

because you were so happy with them."

"Oh. You don't like that, do you?"

She didn't answer.

"Now let me figure this out," Danny continued. "So you lied to Matt about me because, let's see, you were trying to make my

life with them unhappy? So that maybe I'd be willing to leave or something?"

Denise nodded shyly.

"That's not very nice, you know," Danny understated,

controlling his anger. "I told you before, I'm not your man."

"I‑I know. But I hoped you were mistaken."

"No, I think you are."

Denise tried to fight back her tears.

"I'm sure you'll find someone someday, Denise," Danny

comforted.

"I'm tired of someday!" she cried. "I want someone to love

today! I'm lonely here!"

"Don't your bandmates‑‑"

"No, I told you before, Danny, the four of us aren't like you, saying we love each other and stuff like that. Even Aria and Lark could be closer emotionally. They and Cadence hardly provide any company for me. Besides, I want a husband; I want a baby before it's too late!"

"Why, are you older than you look?"

"I'm..twenty‑five."

Danny raised his eyebrows and shook his head. "It's not too late!"

She sighed. "You're right. I know; I was being silly. It's just been so long since I've been happy, except when I'm high. But I need more and more to get that way‑‑"

"What?" Danny exclaimed. "You don't mean..?"

She looked at him. "You boys really must be monks. You've never taken drugs, have you?"

"Well, actually, no, we haven't experimented with them. It's unhip of us, I know, these days‑‑"

"Don't feel that way, Danny. I want out of this myself."

"Don't your bandmates‑‑"

"I don't have bandmates like yours, Danny! They don't care what I do‑‑they go by their rules; I go by mine. Actually, they think they're being nice to me. You see, the first couple of times they said something about it, I snapped at them and told them what I chose to do with my body and my mind was none of their business. They learned to shut up quickly. Besides, they've experimented a little themselves. I've known them to get drunk or high plenty of times at parties anyway. I need to start over to get help."

Danny took hold of her hand. "I'll help you. And I'm sure your bandmates can be convinced to help, too. And, you never know, by helping you, they may even be helping themselves. But there's one thing you have to agree to for me."

She looked up at him. "What's that?"

"From now on, we're just friends."

She looked disappointed as she muttered, "Okay."

Danny tried cheering her up. "Hey, my bandmates and I are

just friends, and look how groovy that turned out."

She smiled.

VI

It was the day of the KNEW Summer Festival in the Park, and Beatnik Bob had just announced to the crowd the arrival of Innocents' Prayer. The eight took their places on the split‑level stage, then let their music work them into a frenzy. Timmy played drums as he had wanted to; Lark pounded the keyboards; Cadence took over on tambourine and maracas; Patrick rocked steady with his bass; and Matt and Aria both played six‑string electric guitars. Danny and Denise shared lead vocals. Danny was glad to see Denise getting into the act, happy, if only for the moment. He was also glad to see she did not seem to read too much into the lyrics of "You're for Me".

"When I first met you, I knew you were for me.

We're so much alike and we'll be so happy."

The act went rather well, though zanily. At one point, Denise squeezed Danny tightly, and to keep her from getting so close, he started doing an impromptu, comedic waltz with her. Aria aimed her guitar at Matt like she was going to shoot him with it, and he picked up on her challenge to a duel. Timmy, in his excitement, knocked over his crash cymbal, confirming Cadence's opinion that it should have been her behind the set. Since it was near the end, he decided to turn over the rest of the drum set as well, as though the crash cymbal's fall had all been part of the act. He got many stares from his real bandmates and his temporary ones. But the trashing was contagious, as at the very end of the number, Aria took her guitar and smashed it over the speaker. "Top that, Winward!" she cried loudly.

"You think I'm going to smash my guitar, you've got another thing coming," Matt told her, also so he could be overheard. "I don't make as much money as you do."

Impulsively, Denise grabbed Danny by his shirt, and planted a big kiss on his lips.

The young audience went wild with excitement.

Danny pulled away, turning to the crowd. "Girls today..." he complained.

The station manager was upset. "I thought they'd be a nice family act."

"Me, too," Beatnik Bob said, a big smile upon his face. "I was really worried about the Four Innocents, I heard they were so tame. But I guess that's only their personal lives, not their act."

"But did any of the Four Innocents hit it off with any of the Rosaries?" May wondered.

"Only Raven and Danny went out for a date," the disc jockey informed the matchmaker.

"Are they getting together again?"

"Nah, like they've got irreconcilable differences."


	5. Why Timmy Is Just the Drummer

WHY TIMMY IS JUST THE DRUMMER

Here’s how it happened: One morning Timmy announced, “I think I’d like to learn how to play the guitar.” He had seen his three bandmates playing acoustic guitars last night, and he felt left out, even though they had invited him to sing.

“Now that’s the A chord,” Patrick said patiently. 

“I-can’t-hold my-fingers down like-that,” Timmy protested, breathing hard as though he were running up hill.

“It’s simple, really,” Patrick said gently, pleadingly.

“It’s not simple!” Timmy shouted, then threw his hands over his mouth.

It was too late. Patrick burst into tears, ran into the music storage room, and shut the door.

“Patrick, wait!” Timmy ran after him. “I wasn’t yelling _at_ _you_! I was just, er…”

In the end, things were straightened out, but Matt had the job of teaching thrust upon him. “Now that’s the—”

“I can’t hold my fingers down like that.”

“Sure you can. Now—”

“It makes them feel all numb and stuff.”

“Just try it!” Matt ordered sternly.

Timmy raised an eyebrow at the inflection in his bandleader’s voice, but decided to let it go.

“Now go to the D chord.”

It took Timmy half a minute to do so, not the smooth transition either one of them had hoped for. “Well, let’s try it again,” Matt suggested.

This time, Timmy couldn’t seem to change chords at all. “Gee-yah!” He leapt from the couch, holding the guitar over his head.

Matt positioned himself under the guitar before Timmy could swing it into the floor.

“Ahh! Matt, I almost hit you!”

“Timmy, man, you almost broke my guitar!”

“I could’ve killed you!”

“Well, it was damn worth risking my life for! I grew up with that guitar!”

“I’m sorry, Matt, I’m—” Timmy ran into the guest room and shut the door.

“Oh boy, here we go again,” Matt muttered. “Living with a bunch of so-called effiminates does have its down side.”

“…So I may not be too much ahead of you, but here goes.” Danny demonstrated a chord change and his fingers slipped between the strings.

“Smooth transition,” Timmy remarked with a grin.

“Let’s try—” Danny began, but stumbled again. He looked at Timmy. “Let’s go play pranks in the park.”

“Okay!” Timmy agreed readily.

And so Timmy never did learn guitar, or any instrument that does anything besides keep rhythm. He was more than happy to be just the drummer. Sometimes it helps to know what you aren’t as well as what you are.

And on nights when his three bandmates jammed on acoustic guitars, Timmy played bongos.


	6. Explain the Park and Other Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title is a play on the title of a 1960's Cowsills' song, "The Rain, the Park, and Other Things".

EXPLAIN THE PARK AND OTHER THINGS

I

"Smile," encouraged Amity, as she snapped one of dozens of group and solo portraits of the Four Innocents. A knock interrupted the session.

"I'll get it," Matt said. Amity's roommate Francene stood outside.

"What's up?" Amity wondered.

"Your mother called."

Amity raised her eyebrows; this was no emergency. "I'll call her back this evening. I'm busy right now."

"Hey, Francene, you still painting?" Danny wondered.

She shrugged. "Yeah. But right now I'm working on a short story for my writers' workshop class."

"A story? What's it about?"

"Well, I haven't really got it off the ground yet. You wouldn't like it, though. I want it to be about this couple who are just madly in love with each other as much as any two people can be."

The Four Innocents feigned disgust.

"After I finish this roll of film, I'm going horseback riding with the Four Innocents," Amity said to Francene.

"Hey, you wanna come to?" Danny asked.

"No, I've really got to try to start this assignment."

"All right. Maybe some other time."

A notebook in hand, Francene sat in the park, watching people. Her instructor had told her he often got ideas by making observations of real life individuals. In Francene's case, it was couples. Every boy and girl or man and woman she saw together she would spy upon.

A young and modern couple walked hand and hand. Francene smiled. They lay down upon the grass, kissing passionately and not caring who saw. When they finally stopped, the guy tried to cajole the girl into coming home with him.

"No, Robert--" she began.

"Richard," he corrected.

"Richard. I've got a date with Steve tonight."

Just a couple of strangers participating in the "free love" movement, Francene realized.

A couple that had obviously been married for quite some time exited their station wagon, their kids following. Quite soon, Francene could see them bickering, over what she did not know.

Another young couple caught Francene's eye. The girl had the glow that accompanies pregnancy, and her protruding stomach was beautifully round, causing Francene to ponder the miracle of conception and birth.

"Doug, when are we going to get married?" the girl asked her companion.

"Someday," he replied grouchily.

"You don't want to get married, do you?"

"Whatever gave you that idea?"

"Who's going to take care of the baby if you don't?"

"Look, maybe I can make payments, like divorced fathers do."

Francene growled to herself and clenched her fists. The ideal couple was nowhere in sight.

II

_Pretty horses all in a row_ , Francene observed as she walked up to the stable.

"Hey, Francene," Danny greeted. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, last night Amity kept raving about how fun horseback riding was, so I decided to give it a try. I'm glad you fellas are here. Well, two of you. Where's Matt and Timmy?"

"Probably at home," Danny told her. "See, I decided Patrick and I should just spend some one on one time together today at the stables."

"It's our anniversary," Patrick said.

"Your anniversary?" Francene wondered.

"Yeah, a year ago today Patrick and I first met, right here at Marshall Stables."

"Cool," Francene remarked. "Well, I guess I'll come back some other time."

"No, it's okay," Patrick insisted.

"I've got to get back to my writing anyway," she said, waving as she walked away.

At a distance, she watched them as they prepared their horses for the ride. Laughter, smiling, affection, tenderness--it was all there, and Francene had never thought of it before. She had been thinking love existed only between men and women, when love was something completely separate from sexual desire, and existed not only between lovers, but between parents and children, brothers and sisters, and most of all, between friends.

III

"I liked your story, Francene," Mr. West said, sitting at his desk. 

"Really?" Francene asked, standing nearby him. "I got a lot of inspiration the way you do--by observing real life people." She took the manuscript in hand. "For example, this scene where James and Karen, even though they have not married or even made love, celebrate their anniversary--the anniversary of them meeting, that is--that's an idea I got from a couple of friends of mine."

"Are they married yet?" the instructor wondered.

Francene laughed. "Oh, no, sir. They're just friends, two boys named Danny and Patrick."

"Oh, I see. I think."

"And this scene here, where James and Karen play pranks in the park, I got from Danny and another friend of his, Timmy."

"I wouldn't recommend that kind of behavior," Mr. West remarked. "It's funny, but it could get one in big trouble."

"I've heard they **have** gotten into some sticky situations through their playing 'partners in crime'." She pointed out a third scene. "You know the part where James tries to console Karen and get her off her guilt trip? Well, that comes from Timmy and Matt."

"Another friend?"

"They're a communal rock'n'roll quartet I know," she explained. "Live next to Amity and me."

Mr. West took the manuscript back. "What about this scene where James and Karen fall passionately to the ground and make out?"

"That," Francene said. "I got from a couple in the park."


	7. Of Fame and Friendship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story was based on The Monkees episode "Find the Monkees" by Gerald Gardner and Dee Caruso.

OF FAME AND FRIENDSHIP

I

"Asleep again, Timmy?" Matt asked, noticing the drummer reclined on the armed couch. 

"Yes."

"Well, okay, tell me when you wake up."

"Why, is it something important?"

Matt walked over and sat by Timmy's feet. "I'm not sure." He paused for a second, then asked, "Has Patrick seemed depressed to you lately?"

"Now that you mention it, it did seem like his mind was somewhere else yesterday."

"Well, do you think he'll be all right today?"

"Probably. His moods never last very long. He cries about something, and then he feels all right."

"Yeah, well, we'll see." Matt left to go into the music room. Timmy, now feeling disturbed, went off into a reverie, wondering if something was really the matter with Patrick. No, there couldn't be. He had probably just been daydreaming the other day. Patrick was a sensitive boy, true, but of a cheerful composition.

While Timmy was lost in thought, four men came around to the back of the house. "Are you sure they won't mind us coming in unannounced?" one asked.

"Naaa, they won't mind. They never have any girls over, so we couldn't possibly be interrupting anything." They entered.

Timmy came to his senses then, looking up to see the Fig Leaves. Startled, he let out a short shout.

Curious about the ruckus, the other three Innocents rushed out to the den.

"Hi, losers," Oliver said. "There's an ad we saw in the show biz classifieds we thought would be perfect for you."

"Yeah," Beanie concurred, holding up a paper. Circled was an ad that read "Male strippers wanted".

"You broke into our house just to show us that?" Timmy demanded.

Oliver grabbed the paper. "Wrong ad, Beanie boy. Here's the one. 'Wanted: Existing rock'n'roll band, preferably quartet, to star in variety show pilot. Must be clean.'"

"You're the cleanest guys we know," Bill remarked.

"Let me see that," Matt requested, and looked at the rest of the information in the advertisement. "Hey, you know, fellas, this sounds legit."

"Of course it is," Oliver insisted, sounding offended. "We don't have our own printing press."

"This actually could be something to try out for," Matt continued.

"See you at the auditions," Oliver told them, and the Fig Leaves exited out the porch door.

II

The day of the auditions, the Four Innocents got up earlier than usual, so they could get in extra rehearsal time. Still, at six o'clock, it was too early for the boys to be in active mode, so they just lazed about downstairs for a while, all but Matt still in their pajamas. Timmy ate breakfast, while Matt thumbed disinterestedly through the classifieds. Patrick was on the psychiatrist couch, looking for the comics amongst the other sections of the paper. Danny came over curiously, picking up the entertainment section. "'No chance of the Rosebuds getting back together', friend of band says." 

"That's not positive," Timmy remarked.

"It's sad," Patrick said, sniffing. "They were so close."

"At least they seemed that way," Timmy observed. "Probably just image."

Patrick sighed. "I don't know."

"What's wrong?" Timmy asked worriedly.

"Nothing."

"It's the old 'nothing' bit," Danny observed.

"No, I'm fine. Really." He smiled at them innocently.

"See?"

Matt stared Patrick in the eyes. "Patrick, now tell us, what's the matter? And don't say nothing, cause you've been uptight the last few days." 

"I know," Patrick admitted, and was silent for a moment. "I'm confused," he said at last. "I keep wondering if we'll ever become a big group, or we'll just play small time gigs in town or what?"

"Well, Patrick, you know we haven't been in the business that

long," Matt said. "And success doesn't often come overnight."

"Don't worry, Patrick," Danny told him. "We'll get our break eventually."

"But I'm afraid of that, too!" Patrick cried. "They've been

talking a lot lately about the Rosebuds breaking up. It said in an article that they were really tight and close just like us when they were first starting out and had no money."

"Yeah, I remember that article," Timmy mentioned, and thought for a moment about what he had read. "Ben said that they 'breathed the same air, and thought the same thoughts, and were like one, like a family'. I memorized that bit 'cause it sounded like us."

"Yeah, but then they became famous, and moved into separate houses, and started arguing all the time over music and money and stuff," Patrick pointed out.

"Don't you worry about that happening to us," Matt advised. "The way they were talkin' in that article made it sound like they used to be like us, but we've got something that no one else has. We're brothers of the soul, and we made a commitment to each other to never part."

"That's right, babe," Danny added. "Never."

"Not even fame and fortune will ruin our friendship," Matt

continued.

"I hope so," Patrick said.

Playing a rocking cover version of the Barking Dogs' "Break the Spell", the Four Innocents made it to the next round of auditions. Producer Louis Madison seemed excited about them, claiming their version was better than the original. Unfortunately, the Fig Leaves also made it past their first audition.

"We've got to make sure we stay fresh in Madison's mind," Matt told his bandmates at an evening meeting at the kitchen table. "Now I want each one of us to do something to achieve this purpose. For instance, I'll go back to his office and remind him or at least his secretary about us."

"I'll make a phone call," Danny said.

"I'll write a letter discussing all our merits," Timmy offered.

"I don't know what to do," Patrick confessed.

"Well, you have time to think about it," Matt reassured.

Danny made the call. Timmy wrote the letter. Patrick fretted over what to do. At last, Matt told him he could just come along while he visited Madison in person.

Friday, they entered his secretary's office. Miss Cecilia Wilmot was a yellowed redhead, and she sounded like she had originally come from the northeast. "I'm sorry, I may be able to schedule an appointment, but Mr. Madison's a very busy man, you know."

"Oh, well, that's okay," Matt said. "Just tell him we were here. The Four Innocents. The band he liked. Well, one of the bands anyway."

"Oh, so you're the ones who've got him singing 'Break the Spell' all the time."

The two visiting Innocents smiled in delight. "Yeah, so he hasn't forgotten?" Matt observed.

"I wish he would," Miss Wilmot said. "He's driving me up the wall singing that over and over again. Not to insult your version, you understand. But his singing is another matter."

At that moment, Madison, a ruddy man with twinkling eyes, walked out of his office. "Miss Wilmot, I'll--Oh, hello, boys. Good to see you."

"Hello, Mr. Madison," Matt returned.

"Hi," Patrick greeted timidly.

Picking up on his shyness, Madison rubbed his Patrick's head playfully. The boy grinned, feeling more at ease. He really liked Madison; he knew that now. _I wouldn’t have minded having him around the house as a father figure_ , he mused.

"So what brings you two here today, and where's the other two?"

"Well, they went to the park," Matt replied. "And we decided to come by and just, well, refresh your memory of us."

"Oh, I wouldn't forget you," Madison insisted. "Besides, Miss Wilmot took a message from Danny the other day, and I was just reading a letter from Timmy describing all your merits. So you boys are squeaky clean, huh?"

"I suppose," Matt said modestly.

"That's good. The network will probably want our band to have a squeaky clean image, and if they're already that way in real life, that saves us the trouble of making things up. Well, I'll see you boys around." He headed out the door, singing, "'Break the spell she's got over you...'"

"AAAARRGGH!" Miss Wilmot cried.

Madison poked his head back in, winking at Matt and Patrick. "She said she'd scream if she heard me singing that song one more time."

Call-back time came on the twelfth. The Four Innocents got in early and performed "New World", then sat for an interview session. Later that day, Madison reluctantly reviewed the other bands. At the studio, he looked around to see neo-classical living statues, medieval troubadours, cowboys and Indians, and a motley assembly of hippies. "All right, you, uh, Fig Leaves," he called, gesturing them over. "You first."

"Yes, sir, that's us," Oliver said. "The Fig Leaves."

Madison sighed, not the jolly man he had been when with the Four Innocents. "Miss Wilmot, get ready to record this."

Wilmot had placed the recorder on the sign‑in table and

kneeled down to plug it in. "Yes, sir," she told Madison. She dropped a file she had been holding, and a publicity photo slipped out.

"Hey, that's the Four Innocents!" Oliver exclaimed. 

"You know that group?" Madison asked.

"Sure, the Four Innocents. Bunch of prudish jerks."

"Get out of here!" Madison cried.

"No, really they are," Oliver insisted.

"I mean, get out of here!"

"Oh, you mean you want us to literally get--"

"Yes!"

"But we haven't even gotten to play yet!" Beanie protested.

"I've made up my mind, Miss Wilmot," Madison announced. "I don't have the time or patience to go through these token call-backs. The Four Innocents will be the band for my show."

"You've got to be kidding," Oliver remarked.

"No, I'm sorry, but I'm not. Miss Wilmot, make sure all the other bands are informed."

"Yes, sir," she said.

Madison stared at the Fig Leaves, still present. “Out! And how dare to you come in here dressed like naked men!”

“ _Dressed_ like _naked_ men?” Bill asked with a guffaw, as he and his bandmates exited.

When all the bands had left, Miss Wilmot accompanied Madison to lunch. "Tell me, sir, why so on fire for the Four Innocents? I mean, they play fine and all, but so do a lot of the other groups we called back."

"I don't know, there's something about them," Madison replied. "They're sweet young kids, not like a lot of today's arrogant brats, the ones who think the younger generation knows better than those of us who've got experience in living."

"Yeah, tell me about it," Miss Wilmot said. "My sister's kid is a teenager now...Oooh, boy!"

"And that one kid, Patrick--"

"The quiet blond?"

"Yeah, he reminds me of my son."

"I didn't know you had a son, Mr. Madison."

"I don't. Not now. He and his mother died years ago in a car accident."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"Hardly ever got to see the boy. His mother didn't want me around."

"Why not? You're not cruel or anything."

"Well, back then I could be. I had a drinking problem that I've since gotten under control."

"I was gonna say, if you were like you are now, I don't know what kind of problem your wife could have had with you."

Madison smiled sheepishly. "Oh, we were never married--I offered to make it legal, but she risked living with the kid without me and then married some other guy. Better than me, I suppose. But that fooling around--another one of my old bad habits."

"Well, I don't think there's many of those old bad habits around anymore," Miss Wilmot remarked.

He grinned at her. "Miss Wilmot, you're a fine woman." He hesitated. "Oh, and Miss Wilmot...?"

She turned to look at him. "Yes?"

"Make sure to inform the Four Innocents that they've got the job and to report here tomorrow."

She shrugged, having expected to hear something else. "Okay, Mr. Madison."

"We've got the job, we've got the job!" Danny sang merrily, leaping on the den furniture.

"We got the gig!" Timmy chimed in. "The biggest gig ever."

Matt held a hand to his head in mock weariness. "At last, those twenty years of sweat and hard labor have paid off."

Patrick sat silently on the triangular seat, his head in his hands.

Matt walked over to his side. "You're not worried about that again, are you? We'll all make sure we won't let fame get to our heads."

Patrick smiled. "Oh, I know," he said quietly.

The Four Innocents' bandleader gestured for Timmy and Danny to come. The two sat down, and Matt kneeled. Patrick remained in the chair. "Look, fellas, just to make sure Patrick's fears are unfounded, let's all make a commitment." Matt cleared his throat. "We, the Four Innocents, agree that we will dedicate ourselves to maintaining our friendship whether we be unknown or famous, rich or poor...um, and whatever else." He placed a hand out. His three bandmates each placed a hand in the pile.

"'Til death do us part," Timmy added.

III

The Four Innocents reported for work on the fourteenth. Everything was hurry up and wait. They met many important people who had to approve of them. They learned the "Music in Action" corny but catchy theme song. "Music, music, music in action!/It appeals to any faction/ It'll bring you satisfaction/It is such an attraction/Music, music, music in action!" They did cold readings of a comedy sketch. The costume designer looked them over and made sketches for their wardrobe.

Then there was no more waiting and everything was just hurry.

Filming of the pilot began on Monday. "Music in Action" was a variety show featuring songs and sketches. A cast of male and female comedians had been picked out in auditions separate from the band call. Teen idol Vincent Volante was supposed to show up, but didn't. For the "special guest star", they had to settle for Herschel Stillman, a local singer whose song "Let There Be Love", had reached number nine on the national charts last year.

To the Four Innocents, one of the best things was finally getting uniforms. They had often thought about group outfits, but for financial reasons, never pursued obtaining their own. Now they had them and they loved them. The top of the costume consisted of a tunic that resembled a monk's robe. It had a rope belt and came down to the top of one's thighs. Patrick's tunic was a dark golden yellow, Timmy's was turquoise, Danny's green, and Matt's an orange-red. Pre-aged and torn jeans were worn for pants, and moccasin style boots adorned their feet. The Four Innocents liked what the outfits seemed to say. They were monks, in a sense, but also fun-loving teenagers.

During the second day of filming, the director drew Madison aside. "Three of those Four Innocents, I think, can be developed to do routines as well as songs, but that Patrick kid is just too shy."

"Well, it doesn't matter," Madison said. "They're primarily there to play, and the comedians can do the comedy. I just thought it would be fun to have the musicians do some, too."

The director shrugged. "Okay. So can we re-do that sketch without the Four Innocents?"

"Sure, just have them play the music for now."

Madison walked outside to get some fresh air, and noticed the Four Innocents also taking a break. Patrick seemed upset. "What's wrong, kids?"

"Oh, the director yelled at Patrick," Danny explained.

"Directors will be like that," Madison said. "Don't worry about it, Patrick, he's like that to everyone. Got to learn some things about show biz, kid. Not everyone's a nice guy, and some that start out nice get corrupted."

Patrick looked up, worried. "They do?"

"I hope that never happens to you kids," Madison remarked as he turned away. He looked back at the bandmates, rephrasing his comment. "Don't ever let it happen to you."

"You don't think it could?" Patrick asked his bandmates a moment later.

"Not if we stand by our convictions," Matt replied.

"Patrick, you've got to learn to trust us--and yourself," Danny chided.

"I trust you!" Patrick protested. "I just--I just feel..."

"Nervous?" Timmy asked. "Fearful of the future, maybe?"

"Maybe that's it," Patrick agreed.

IV

The pilot had long since been completed and the Four Innocents returned to their normal lives. Then, on a lazy Sunday afternoon, Madison and Miss Wilmot dropped by the band's house. They brought with them the band uniforms.

"These are yours to keep," Madison said. "But there's bad news. The pilot's been rejected as a show idea. The way things look, it won't even get shown as a half-hour special."

"Aw, man!" Matt exclaimed. "I knew it was too good to be true."

"Guess we will have to work a few nights for our success," Danny remarked.

"I do have some other offers coming up, though," Madison announced. "But just for Patrick."

"Me?" The boy in question squinted in confusion.

"Herschel Stillman's going on a world tour, and he needs another versatile musician in his back-up band."

"No, no, no," Matt said.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Madison," Danny added. "But no, thanks."

"Please don't take it, Patrick," Timmy pleaded.

"Hey, let the kid make up his own mind!" Miss Wilmot protested.

Everyone looked at Patrick. He smiled weakly. "I think they've answered for me," he told Mr. Madison.

Madison sighed. "Okay, just checking. If anything else comes up that will suit you boys, I'll try to make sure you hear about it."

"Okay, thanks," Danny said.

"Come on, Cecilia, we don't want to miss our reservations at the Paris Cafe." 

"Certainly not, Louis." 

Arm and arm, the couple walked out the door.

"I wonder what kind of money and prestige being a back-up musician would bring," Matt thought aloud.

"For Herschel Stillman?" Timmy asked incredulously.

"Well, it could lead to bigger things."

"I'm not interested," Patrick said simply.

"I'm sorry we answered so quickly for ya," Danny apologized.

Matt sighed. "You're right. I guess we were being jealous. We can't let our own selfishness get in the way of one of our bandmate's chance at success."

"Oh, no, you guys!" Patrick insisted. "I just realized--you've shown me that the band staying together is more important than fame."

"But it wasn't our fame," Matt pointed out.

Patrick shrugged. "I still think you did. I trust you." This time he sounded completely sincere.

Timmy spoke up. "I know why you trust us--even though the band wouldn't be famous as a whole, if we weren't trustworthy, we'd want him to get rich so we could freeload off him."

"Maybe that's it," Patrick agreed.

"Still, I'm kinda relieved in a way that the pilot got rejected," Timmy said. "How 'bout you, Patrick?"

"Yeah, it made me a bit nervous. But I'm disappointed, too."

"Well, at least we get to keep the uniforms," Danny remarked.

"And at least we know that people in power think we have talent," Matt added. "Another chance may come up soon."

"Well, whatever happens, I'm not gonna worry about it," Patrick insisted.


	8. Meanwhile, Back at the Ranch:  A Tall Tale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story was based on The Monkees episode "Monkees in Texas" by Jack Winter.

MEANWHILE, BACK AT THE RANCH: A TALL TALE

I

In West Texas, the roads between the small towns stretch out for what seems like an eternity--and it's quite possible one won't pass another vehicle on the journey. Nighttime travelling can be quite eerie.

"Oh, we're travellin' down this lonely road," Matt, the

driver, sang improvisationally, while Timmy, next to him, joined in with harmonizing coyote howls. "And at times it gets so lonely/ It gets lonely as can be/ That if I didn't have my friends with me/ I'd be all alone..."

"Well, that makes sense," Patrick remarked.

"Not to me," Danny disagreed. "That last bit doesn't rhyme.

Hey, Matt, it's pitch black out here; there are no street lights‑‑" 

"That's why it's pitch black," Matt interrupted, giddy with the intoxication of the night air.

"Are you sure you know where you're going?" Danny continued.

"Sure I'm sure. All the light we need is our headlights,

'cause we just keep goin' straight. Around dawn we should be

almost at Adamsville." On Sunday, with extra money provided by their work on Madison's pilot, the boys had left to visit Matt's hometown in New Mexico, and now they were off to visit the Dietbolds in Texas.

Patrick observed all the darkness surrounding the van, and

felt the stingingly cool wind coming in through the open

window. He shivered. "It's spooky out here. Can you sing some more, Matt?"

"Sure," Matt agreed, and with Timmy again howling in

accompaniment, he crooned purposefully off‑key. "At times it gets so lonely/ On the lonely road you see/ That if I didn't have my

bandmates three/ It would be only me..."

At dawn, they had tried to get gas, but the station owner emphatically told them, "We don't cater to no long-hairs here."

Now, all Timmy could do was keep nervously checking the fuel gauge.

"Oh, maybe it'll last to Adamsville," Matt reassured, still at the wheel.

"What's Adamsville like?" Danny asked. "A lot like Trotter?"

"Well, it used to be last time I was there," Matt replied. "But Maw wrote and told me that there've been a lot of changes goin' on out there. Changes not for the better."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, seems like they found some new oil wells around Adamsville."

"And that's a change for the worse?" Timmy demanded incredulously.

Matt shrugged. "You figure Winward-Dietbold mentality."

Patrick spoke up. "Hey, do you think they'll treat us in town like that gas station guy back there?"

"Aw, heck, no. One thing towns out here are prided for is their hospitality. They'll take a stranger in, make him feel right at home like a native."

II

"Man, the town's twice as big!" Matt exclaimed as the van sputtered into Adamsville. "Well, let's stop at that bar there, see if we can get something to eat there since Aunt Hilda doesn't know we're coming."

"Do you think this place actually serves any food?" Patrick asked nervously, as they walked through the western-style swinging door.

"Maybe they at least have pretzels and potato chips," Danny guessed.

The Four Innocents noticed that everything had suddenly grown silent. Everyone was staring at them. "Oh, excuse us, we were just leaving," Matt apologized, attempting to wheel his friends out the doors before he found out what the bar customers' problem was.

A large, steely-eye man had already placed himself in front of the exit. "Who are you..girls?" he asked, and even though the Four Innocents found it a tired joke, everyone else laughed uproariously. Without waiting for a reply, he continued, "You know, out in these parts, we don't take a likin' to strangers."

"I beg to differ with you," Matt began. "Sir. I used to visit 'these parts' often, and hospitality is the key here." _Not hostility_ , he added mentally. "I take it you aren't a native? Come in with the oil boon, perhaps?"

"That's right," the man drawled. "The name's 'Red Eye'

Thane--So you come from Adamsville, boy?"

"Well, not actually, but I have some relatives here."

"What'cha doin' back here?"

"Well, I was planning on taking my friends to go visit those relatives."

"Who's that?"

Wondering why he was bothering to answer even as he did so, Matt said, "Well, I'm sure you've heard of them--Luke and Hilda Dietbold?"

An angry murmur went throughout the bar. "Luke Dietbold?"

"Yeah," Matt replied. "You know him?"

"Know him?" their interrogator growled. "Why, let me tell you something, Dietbold boy--If the natives out here are so damned friendly to strangers, how come that Luke Dietbold keeps taking his shotgun in here and shooting up all our liquor?"

"I don't know," Matt confessed. "I haven't seen him in awhile, but he always was a religious zealot. Can we please go now?"

"Why?"

"W-why?" Matt repeated in bemusement. "Well, because I'm tired. I just want to get some sleep. I've been driving the highway all night 'cause my friends here ain't comfortable with how dark it gets at night here."

"So your friends ain't from around these parts?"

"No..." Matt, growing wearisome of the questioning, attempted to ease his way past the man, who lay a firm, restraining hand on his shoulder. 

"Hold on, boy. Don't get so anxious. If you wanna get some sleep, I'll give you some sleep," he threatened, brandishing a clenched fist.

"Oh, look, man," Matt moaned. "I don't know what problem you have with my uncle, but my friends and I--"

"Your uncle? I didn't know you was **that** closely related. Why, I oughta--" He stopped as he heard the doors swing open and felt the barrel of a shotgun protruding into his back. Glancing behind him, he found out his suspicions were correct. Luke Dietbold.

"You go on and get, Thane!" Luke Dietbold ordered, and the bully scurried off to join some companions at a table. Uncle Luke then raised his shotgun and aimed at the shelves of liquor bottles, but stopped before firing, peering at Matt's face curiously. "Matthew?"

"Yeah, Uncle Luke, it's me!" Matt replied happily. "And these are my three best friends--"

"Introduce yourselves at the ranch," Uncle Luke interrupted, escorting them out. "Aunt Hilda will fix you up something to eat, and Zelda and Billie will prepare rooms for you. I'll just come back and bust up this den of sin later."

"I don't much care for the riff-raff that came into town with the discovery of oil," Uncle Luke remarked as he escorted the Four Innocents into his ranch house.

Aunt Hilda was in the kitchen, already frying up a meal. "Can you put a little something extra on the stove, honey?" Uncle Luke asked. "We got company."

"A **little** something extra?" Aunt Hilda cried. "For **four** strapping young men?" Her irritation and mock anger faded. "Oh, all right. Good to see you, Matt, even if it is unexpected. Are these your friends I keep hearing about?"

"Hey, what's all the ruckus?" demanded a hoarse but feminine voice, and Zelda walked in, followed by Billie. Both squealed at the sight of Matt, and Zelda squealed again at the sight of his cute friends. Introductions were passed out, and extra seats were crowded around the dining room table.

While they ate, Uncle Luke continued to discuss the effects of the oil industry. "Not every newcomer is bad, of course. Some are downright nice Christian folk. But others, like Thane or 'Red Eye' Conway, and his brother 'Sneaky' Pete, are ornery bullies. Always drinking and carousing and looking to start a fight. They're the sons of Alex Conway, who bought a small spread on the outskirts of town. Now Alex is okay, but he sure did a lousy job raising those boys of his."

After lunch, Aunt Hilda prepared the guest room for the Four Innocents, moving Zelda into the same bedroom with Billie.

"So what's there to do in this town?" Danny asked Matt.

"Horseback riding," Matt replied knowingly. "Uncle Luke has a decent number of horses to choose from."

"Oh, really? Great. It's been too long since we've been horseback riding together."

"Why don't you three go on?" Matt suggested. "I'll catch up with you later. These are my relatives; I can't be a stranger to them while I'm here."

III

Zelda helped Danny, Timmy, and Patrick pick out horses before she went back inside to talk with Matt and her family. Danny rode a brown filly, Timmy a chestnut mare, and Patrick a gray-white mare. They headed off into the wide open spaces.

Timmy waxed dramatic, having heard triumphant western theme music start to play in his mind. "Bringing justice to the far reaches of the wild west, Jack David and his Mexican companion Paco ride, righting wrongs and wronging rights and just being generally goody six shoes."

"Six shoes?" Patrick wondered.

"Well, they each have their own two feet, plus their horses' four feet--"

"Oh. Can I be Paco?"

"Sure, you can be Paco. Matt may be a little bit closer in ethnicity, but he's not here. And I'll be Jack David himself." He sucked in his chest and put on the air of a magnificent hero. "But who are you, Danny?"

"Who am I? After all this time, I thought you knew me better then that."

"Well, who are you?"

"I'm Danny Selwyn."

"I know that. But who do you want to play?"

"Okay, okay. I'm James Huntington, the British sheriff."

"That's better." Timmy was playing double roles, though, taking back on his part as the narrator. "When we last left our heroes, Jack David and Paco had joined forces with James Huntington, sheriff of the small town of New Liverpool to round up some escaped bank robbers..."

Danny chuckled and shook his head. "Ah, we'll never grow up."

Matt chatted away with his uncle, aunt, and cousins the rest of the afternoon, they updating him and he updating them. Then Aunt Hilda excused herself to clean up a little, and Uncle Luke said he was going to town. Zelda went into the girls' bedroom to take a nap. Matt and Billie were left alone.

The tension was too much for Matt. "Do you mind taking a walk in town?"

"That'll be fine," she agreed. "Better than this stuffy living room, I suppose."

The bar customers watched on in dismay as bottle after bottle of good liquor was shattered by the shots from Luke Dietbold's rifle. When every bottle on the shelves lay in pieces and puddles, Dietbold spit on the floor and walked away.

Silence reigned for a moment in the bar, then Red Eye underwent a delayed explosion of anger. "Damn that Dietbold! I'm tired of him always trying to teach us a lesson! It's time we taught **him** a lesson." He grabbed his blond and wiry little brother, pulling him up out of his chair. "Right, Pete?"

"Right," Sneaky Pete hastily agreed, and sneered as an afterthought.

Billie and Matt walked side by side through the streets of Adamsville. "I think it's wonderful, you and your bandmates," she said.

"What about us?"

"Living so innocently."

"Oh, yeah. But you know that's forever. We're not waiting until marriage or anything."

She turned to him. "Yes, I know. As a matter of fact, I think it's a good idea to not pursue marriage if you're not really interested in it. That's why I've decided to become a nun."

This gave Matt a start despite himself. "A nun? A real bona fide nun?"

Billie nodded. "In a few months, I'll be leaving for the convent to start learning the ways of one. It's what I want to do. It's religious, and I never was the kind of girl who dreamed of Prince Charming and changing babies anyway."

"Now I know why we get along so well," Matt remarked. "We're not so different after all, even if you do have no sense of humor."

She laughed as though thinking of her own inside joke. "Oh, none at all?"

They saw Uncle Luke approaching, his rifle over his shoulders. "Hello, Billie, Matt," he greeted, with a tip of his hat. They returned the greeting as he passed by them.

A couple of minutes later, they walked in front of the bar. "Oh, we shouldn't have come this way," Matt grumbled. "I don't want to have another run-in with that ornery Red Eye."

"Just act nonchalant," Billie suggested, and they walked by with no one coming out to bother them.

As they headed home in the early evening, however, it was a different story. They took a different route, but still ran across Sneaky Pete and Red Eye in the open space between town and the outlying ranch lands. "Well, look who we have here," Red Eye greeted. "Luke Dietbold's daughter and nephew. You two sure do make a lovely pair."

"Well, I don't know about him, Red," Sneaky Pete remarked, taking a step closer to Billie. "But **she** is mighty pretty."

Matt grabbed Billie's arm and pulled her in the direction of home. "Well, nice meeting you again, but it's late, and we really must be going."

"Oh, come on, stick around, let's chat!" Red Eye insisted.

"Be friendly now," Sneaky Pete added. "Especially you, Miss Dietbold."

Matt and Billie looked back at them for a second, then looked at each other, and ran for the distant ranch. They hoped that the two bully brothers were just having fun by teasing them, and would let them go. That was not the case. The pair's flight only roused the Conway siblings into action. "You come back here!" Red Eye shouted, and he and Sneaky Pete lessened the ground between them.

A heavy hand clasped Matt's shoulder and pulled him back. "Where you got to run to out here, idiots?" Red Eye demanded.

Sneaky Pete cast his arms around Billie and whirled her in the other direction. "Stick around, baby," he growled.

"Let go of her!" Matt protested, yanking himself away from Red Eye's grasp. He rushed at his cousin and her molester, knocking Billie away from Sneaky Pete's grip. She tumbled to the ground, and Matt landed on top of her, not by accident. Now Sneaky Pete wouldn't have access to her body.

"You plan on staying like that all night, boy?" Red Eye asked. "Cause we can stand here all night watching you."

Matt didn't reply. Scared, he remained frozen where he was, and Billie, though unused to such close contact with a boy, didn't object.

Car headlights could be seen and a motor could be heard in the distance. "That's Paw coming," Sneaky Pete said.

The sedan stopped in front of the two brothers, and Alex Conway got out, observing frightened Matt and Billie lying on the ground. "What's with them?"

"He doesn't want me to have my way with her," Sneaky Pete replied.

"Now, Pete, that ain't no way to treat a lady, even if she's your enemy's daughter," Conway reprimanded.

Matt felt safer now and became less aware of his fear and more aware of the sensation of Billie's body beneath his own. When Conway ordered him to get up, he readily did, helping Billie to her feet.

Conway stared at Matt. "Who's he?"

"That's Dietbold's nephew," Red Eye reported.

Remembering Uncle Luke telling him that Alex Conway was a good man, Matt pleaded, "Sir, please, can we go home now?"

Conway smiled. "Sure you can go home."

Matt and Billie sighed with relief.

" **My** home," Conway told them, tensing them up again. "All right, get into the car."

IV

Danny, Timmy, and Patrick had come in from horseback riding a long time ago, and as Luke, Hilda, and Zelda were, sat worriedly in the living room, wondering what was taking Matt and Billie so long to get back. For the most part, the six were silent, the two halves uncomfortable without the bridge Matt provided between them.

Occasionally one would voice a thought aloud. "Say, boys," Mr. Dietbold began suddenly. "While Matt's been living in California, away from his folks, he hasn't gotten any worldly thoughts in his head, has he? Like about... girls?"

"If you're worried about him being alone with Billie," Danny replied. "I can assure you Matt won't try anything immoral with her."

"Billie wouldn't let him anyway," Mrs. Dietbold reminded her husband. "She's a good girl, and Matt's a good boy."

"Well, I'm glad of that," Mr. Dietbold agreed. "But where can they be?"

A few minutes later, they were suddenly startled by the ringing of the telephone. The six stared at each other. Finally, Mrs. Dietbold asked her spouse, "You want to get that?"

He nodded and rose to pick up the receiver. As he listened in, his face looked worried, an expression which spread contagiously to the other five people in the room. 

When he hung up, he sat back down on the couch and caught the gaze of the others. "It's the Conway brothers. They got it into their heads to kidnap Billie and Matt, and they won't say where they're holding them."

"What do they plan on doing to them?" Hilda wondered.

"They didn't say, but they implied the worst."

"Does their father know about this?"

"He couldn't possibly," Mr. Dietbold guessed. "If he did, he'd never let them get away with something like this. They said they'll call back tomorrow night around this time, after they figure out exactly what they want as ransom--if they want one, they said. Damn fool boys don't even know what they're doing ahead of time." He put on his hat. "Come on, Hilda, let's go wake up Mike."

"Mike who?" Danny wondered.

"The sheriff," Mrs. Dietbold explained. "You boys--and you, too, Zelda, I suggest you just stay put."

Mr. and Mrs. Dietbold walked out the door, and soon the teens could hear their truck pulling away.

"Are we just gonna sit here?" Danny asked.

"Well, what can we do?" Patrick reminded him.

"Something," Zelda said resolutely. "'Cause I think I know where they're hiding them." The three Innocents stared at her. "When Matt was staying with us when we were younger, he and Billie and I used to go riding up to this deserted cabin in the hills. We all thought it was our little secret. And so it seems to me that the Conway brothers may think it's their little secret, too."

Danny stood up. "I know! Zelda, you and I will ride up to this cabin."

She leaped up to join him at his side. "Yes, that's exactly what we'll do. And you two boys will ride to the Conway ranch and tell Mr. Conway what his boys are up to."

“Can’t we drive?” Timmy wondered.

“I think Matt has the car keys,” Patrick pointed out.

V

The ride was dark and chilly as Timmy's and Patrick's horses stumbled along the dirt road, trying their best to follow Zelda's directions. Fortunately, although there was not much light, there also was not the confusion of having a multitude of roads to choose from. "Riding by day or night, Jack David and Paco are a crime-fighting force to be feared," Timmy intoned in a low but hammed-up voice, hoping to ease their nervousness. The sound of his voice was eerie, however, hanging lonesomely in the cold night air. Patrick chuckled tightly.

When they arrived at the Conway ranch, they found the house in front fenced off by barbed wire. "What do we do now?" Patrick wondered.

Timmy stared at the fence; it was only about four feet high. "You remember how to make a horse jump?"

Patrick nodded. "Yeah. But, Timmy, you can't possibly be thinking of--"

"Oh, yes, I can be!" Timmy insisted. "Look, I'll try it first, and if I make it, you go."

"Won't we get in trouble for trespassing?"

"Certainly not when we explain to Mr. Conway exactly why we came." Timmy rode his horse back from the fence, and started it running towards the gate.

"Wait, Timmy, that horse probably only knows Western, not English, riding!" Patrick warned.

But Timmy and his mount were already at the point of no return. The rider dug his heels into the horse's side, and she rose off the ground, soaring over the fence to land safely on the other side.

"They train them well," Patrick said to himself.

"Okay, Patrick," Timmy called back. "Make sure the horse has plenty of room to clear the fence."

"Here goes nothing," Patrick muttered nervously as he also guided his mare away a distance. If Timmy could do it, though, so could he. He had taken horseback riding lessons with Danny for a slightly longer time. He rode the horse towards the fence, and signalled for her to jump. She did, her hind hooves nicking the top wire between barbs. Back on all fours, she snorted and pranced nervously, whinnying once. "Easy, girl, easy," Patrick told her soothingly, though shaken up himself. From somewhere in back of the Conway's house came the sound of other horses returning the newcomer's whinny.

The two bandmates rode their mounts to the front door, then got off. Patrick held the reins of both mares, while Timmy pounded on the door.

Alex Conway answered sooner than expected. "How'd you boys get here?" he inquired.

"No time to explain," Timmy began breathlessly. "Your boys have taken our friend and his cousin captive."

"Yeah, Thane took them to their secret hideout," Mr. Conway said.

"Oh, you already know?" Patrick wondered.

Conway took a rifle from behind the door, and Sneaky Pete showed his face, cocking a pistol. "Of course I do," Conway told them, poking the rifle at them. "Those are right nice horses. Pete, take them to our stables. You two boys, well, come into my parlor."

Reluctantly, they walked in, Mr. Conway still keeping his rifle sights on them. "You know, I've got a sign out front--I guess you boys didn't see it. It says, 'All trespassers will be shot on sight'."

"You--you wouldn't want to stain your carpet, would ya?" Timmy pointed out. 

Mr. Conway looked down at the fine Navajo rugs gracing his floor. "No, not really. All right, out back." He marched them through the house and back outside into the area between the house, the stables, and the pasture. Bales of hay were stocked by the stable wall, and a pitchfork hung up on a rack beside them. A pickup truck was parked beside the wall. An unbridled buckskin horse was prancing around a few feet in front of Conway and the two Innocents. "Hey, Pete, didn't ya put all the horses away?"

"Yeah, Paw--!" came the call from out of the stables. Inside, Sneaky Pete suddenly noticed that one of the empty stalls wasn't empty because it had no residents yet. The wild mare had busted the door. "Aw, no! Gypsy broke loose again, Paw."

As Sneaky Pete walked out of the stables to join his father, Timmy mouthed a message to Patrick. "There's nothing to lose," were the words his lips formed. He jerked his head towards Gypsy. "Ride her home."

"What about you?" Patrick whispered.

"Get help. Wait for my signal." Patrick saw that Timmy wanted there to be no dilemma for him, just follow orders. He gulped and nodded, hoping he would know what to do when the moment came.

At the same time that the two bandmates' silent conversation was going on, Conway and his son were also discussing matters at hand. "Well, what should we take care of first, Paw? Them or Gypsy?"

"Why, the boys, of course. We always have to worry about Gypsy."

While Conway was distracted talking to Pete, Timmy noticed that his grip on his rifle had relaxed. He grabbed his captor's wrist. "Hey!" Conway yelled, firing off a blind shot into the sky. Patrick ran towards Gypsy, Sneaky Pete following, fumbling for his pistol while his feet covered the ground. He tripped as Patrick reached the ambling Gypsy, practically leaping on her so he wouldn't have a chance to think this over. She reared up into the air. Patrick wrapped his arms and legs around the horse as tightly as he could. _Boy, talk about Jack David and Paco_ , Patrick thought. When she came back down, Patrick jerked her mane like reins and pressed her side with his knees. She thundered off, her frightened rider hanging on for dear life. This was the first time he had ridden bareback, and a helluva a time to start.

Sneaky Pete did not bother firing at the fading horse and rider. "She'll kill ya!" he yelled after them, getting to his feet and wiping off the dirt. "She's a wild one!"

Pete then saw his father's rifle lying discarded on the ground. He picked it up and watched on as Conway wrestled with Timmy, finally pinning him down. With a click, Sneaky Pete readied the rifle, pointing it in the wide-eyed Timmy's face.

"Hold on, son," Conway decided. "This kid's got a lot of guts. I just might be willing to let you live, boy, if you fight on my side."

"Sure," Timmy said, until he could find a means of escape.

"You're first job will be to kill that other boy when we find him," Conway ordered, gesturing in the direction Patrick had ridden.

Patrick doubted Gypsy had learned the signal to jump as they headed straight for the fence, but, with hope, he gave it anyway. She took a giant leap over the fence, Patrick thinking it must have been more by instinct than by his guidance. He was thrown into the air and found himself wrapped around the mare's neck instead of her back. He hung on until they were out of sight of the ranch. Then he slipped off, and tumbled with a thud to the ground. "Ow!" Patrick groaned, rubbing his side. "Deja vu." This had happened to him before when Danny had first started giving him horseback riding lessons. He dragged himself to his feet, and tired, walked after Gypsy. She looked back at him and stopped. He caught up with her and they walked on, side by side. Patrick then realized that time might be of the essence in rescuing Timmy, and he grabbed Gypsy's mane, preparing to mount again. She was irritated and pulled away.

"C'mon, girl!" he insisted, grabbing her again. "I really need to help my friend." She pulled away once more. "Come on, you understand, don't you? Haven't you ever had any friends?" He tried once more; Gypsy seemed as if she admired his persistence and let him on.

VI

"Just you be glad Paw had Pete stay at home," Red Eye sleepily reminded his two prisoners. "Or Miss Billie here'd be in a lot of trouble."

Matt and Billie, tied to two chairs, just watched him in silence. At times, Thane would doze off, but the two teens had no opportunity to plan an escape before he would wake up again.

A knock at the door startled Red Eye back into full alertness, and also brought Matt and Billie to attention. "Who could that be out here?" their captor wondered. Clutching his pistol, he warily peeked outside. He saw no one, but there had to have been someone there. He stepped out.

A moment later he lay on the ground, struck by a rock.

Danny and Zelda stepped out of the shadows. "I told you I'm an expert marksman," Zelda bragged.

"What would you have done if that rock hadn't knocked him down?" Danny wondered. "He has a pistol there." He picked it up in case Red Eye, groaning, gained his senses too soon.

"Got that figured out, too," Zelda said, pulling her own pistol out from her jeans.

"You've got a lot of spunk, girl," Danny remarked.

They entered the shack. "Zelda!" Billie cried.

"Danny!" Matt chimed in. "Now, what you guys do to our buddy Red Eye?"

Zelda began untying them. "You'll see. And when I have these ropes off you, he's gonna see how you felt like."

Timmy was given a bunk in a room with Sneaky Pete, who talked to him of sexual exploits and dirty jokes, peppering his tales and anecdotes with plenty of profanity. Though offended in the extreme, Timmy listened with a false smile and phony laughter, pretending to relate and making believe that he was so interested in Sneaky Pete's stories that he could pass up on this opportunity to tell his own tall tales.

After a while, they bedded down for the night. Timmy heard Sneaky Pete begin to snore. This seemed too easy, even if he had been given the top bunk. Quietly, he climbed down, and walked to the door.

He heard a yawn. "Now, just a minute, where you going?" Pete asked suspiciously.

Putting on a tough act, Timmy retorted, "I'm gonna go get a drink of water. Is that okay with you or do I have to sign a form?"

"Sure, okay, but if you're not back in thirty seconds, I'm assuming your escaping."

"Gimme a minute."

"To what?"

"No, I mean, make it sixty seconds. Sheesh, in thirty seconds, I won't have even gotten down the hallway."

"Oh, all right, you got sixty seconds."

"Gee, thanks," Timmy muttered. He walked out into the hall, but stood by the doorway. His guess had been correct; Sneaky Pete

forgot to keep track of time and drifted back to sleep, snoring loudly.

Timmy tiptoed down the hall and to the bathroom, turning on the light and shutting the door, but not entering. That might keep them distracted from his real whereabouts. He then walked out the front door and towards the gate. He did not want to bother with the time-consuming hassle of breaking Chestnut out of the stable.

When he was about three-fourths of the way to the gate, the lawn brightened slightly and he could tell the lights had gone on in the house. He threw himself to the ground and lay low, literally. 

Inside, restless Mr. Conway gazed out the window before deciding to go back to bed. He shut off the lights. 

Timmy got back up and made it to the gate. Unlatching it, he was grateful he didn't have to climb over the barb-wired fence. As he took the path back to the Dietbold ranch, he began to run, but after awhile, having passed by Conway territory, he thought it not worth the effort. He shivered, barefoot and in borrowed pajamas, walking down a lonely road in the dark and still hours of early morning. He stumbled on.

Eventually, he stopped and sat on the wet grass, listening to the night, wondering what a California boy like himself was doing out here. Some time later, he heard the clatter of horse hooves. Sneaky Pete? Mr. Conway? The horse was only going at a walk; maybe it wasn't in pursuit of him. Human voices soon could be heard.

"I'm just glad the Conways didn't notice us pass by their ranch." Was that Billie?

"Oh, now, Billie, they couldn't possibly hear us from way inside their house." Yes, it had been Billie, and that was Zelda. And if they were together, Matt and Danny had to be with them! Timmy leaped to his feet and ran towards the four people and two horses, now in sight. "Matt!"

Matt, who was walking beside Billie's horse, looked up. "Timmy!" he exclaimed joyfully, running towards him as well. They crashed into each other and locked in a tight embrace.

"Oh, man...Oh, Timmy, I'm so glad to see you," Matt said between gasps for air.

"Me, too, man. Me, too. You okay?"

"Oh, sure, I'm fine. Just got a little rope burn. But, um, tell me something, Timmy--"

"What am I doing walking out in the middle of nowhere at night in just my pajamas and barefoot?"

"Exactly."

"It's a long story," Timmy said. He looked at the others. "Hi, Danny. Hi, girls." They returned the greeting. "C'mon, we better get back to your house. I bet your parents are worried sick about you. Not to mention that Patrick's probably worried sick about us."

"Where is Patrick anyway?" Danny asked. 

VII

Luke and Hilda were heading back to their ranch, having told Sherriff Mike all the details they could about the kidnapping. They were nearly home when they saw Patrick and a horse galloping by in a blur. "It's a runaway horse!" Hilda gasped.

"I recognize the rider, but who's he riding?" Luke wondered.

Gypsy wasn't as much of a runaway as she seemed, however, for in a second, Patrick had gotten Gypsy to whirl around, and she walked back in the other direction. Luke had braked the truck, and now he rolled down the window. "Where'd you get that horse?"

Patrick caught his breath, then explained. "She's this horse that was out loose they said busted out of her stall."

"What? Sounds like she's not quite broke yet. She must like ya if she didn't buck you off." Mr. Dietbold looked at Patrick in admiration for a moment, then asked, "Now what are you doing out here?"

Patrick explained everything to the Dietbolds, who were both proud of Zelda's bravery but angry at her rashness, and they felt the same way about their nephew's bandmates. The three returned to the ranch, where Luke phoned Mike and updated him on the case. About half an hour later, they heard loud knocking at the door, and all gave a start. "Hey, Uncle Luke, I've come to visit you!" Matt yelled heartily. The three inside all jumped up and ran to the door. Mr. Dietbold opened it, and Matt, Timmy, Danny, Billie, and Zelda rushed in. The excitement that filled up the house in the next few minutes seemed to compensate for the anxiety of the night.

Dawn came shortly, but the eight slept late, having been up all night. Even Mr. Dietbold found nothing wrong with skipping morning church services for just this one week. The Four Innocents rose later then Mr. Dietbold; however, who went into town to get a report from Mike. He in turn reported the news back to his family and Matt's.

"They raided the Conway ranch and arrested them. Oh, and Zelda, they found Red Eye, too, and fixed him up."

"Fixed him up real good, I hope," she remarked with her outer toughness.

"You know," her father continued. "The Conways were protesting that the police had nothing to charge them with, there not being any captives with them at the time."

"So what did they get them with?" Danny wondered. "Contempt of court?"

"Nope, horse theft," Uncle Luke answered. "We'll be getting Chestnut and Whinny returned to us today."

By the time the Four Innocents were ready to leave, they and the Dietbolds were no longer distant peoples bridged together only by their relationship to Matt. Now Timmy, Danny, and Patrick could be considered cousins and nephews the same as their bandleader.

With the Conways' property having been confiscated, Patrick was allowed to keep Gypsy, but asked that she be set loose. After what she had done for him, he wanted to give her what she seemed to desire the most--freedom. 

The Four Innocents packed back into their psychedelic van, with free gas bought by Uncle Luke. "Well, where to next, Matt?" Danny asked. 

"I dunno," the Innocents' bandleader replied. "I was thinking someplace nice and cozy, where there's sunshine and coastline--"

"Home?" Danny guessed.

Matt winked. "You got it, babe."


End file.
